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July, 1899, to December, 1899 

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Vol. XVIII. 


Xon&on : 

GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, & 12, SOUTHAMPTON STREET. 



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Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xviii. 

JULY, 1899. 

No. 103. 

Stories of the Sanctuary Club. 

By L. T. Meade and Robert Eustace. Told by Paul Cato. 


AM a man of day-dreams, and 
a doctor by profession. It was 
my lot when about forty years 
of age to inherit a large fortune, 
and I immediately set to work 
putting a design which had 
long occupied my mind into execution. I 
resolved to leave the thorny and struggling 
path, where I had often felt myself in my 
brother practitioners' way, and, buying a large 
site of ground in the vicinity of Hampstead, 
proceeded to build upon it a goodly mansion. 
When the house was completed and the 
grounds laid out to the best advantage I took 
possession, and now unfolded my scheme to 
a brother doctor whom I had long respected 
and loved. He and I agreed to go into 
partnership, and, with the aid of some of our 
younger brothers of the medical profession, to 
open what we were pleased to call the Sanc- 
tuary Club. This was in the spring of 1890. 
The rules of the club were as follows : It 
was to be opened to men and women of all 
ages and classes who chose to fulfil the 
necessary conditions. These were an en- 
trance fee of ^50, a yearly subscription of 
;£io, and the still more important fact that 
the person, man or woman, who intended to 
become a member, was the victim of disease 
in one of its many forms. The primary object 
of the club was to cure maladies that were 
in any way curable without sending the 
patients from England. 

This great institution, of which I had 
dreamed so long, was for the treatment of all 
sorts of disease on a hitherto unattempted 
scale. Here my friend Chetwynd and I 
could put into execution the boldest and most 
recent theories that other medical men, either 
from lack of means or courage, could not 
carry out. One of the chief features of the 
place was to be a special department where 
the latest and most up-to-date scientific 
theories could be realized, one in especial 

Vol. xviii. — 1. 

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being an attempt at the production of 
artificial climates. 

I had often been struck by the pertinacity 
with which my brother doctors had ordered 
patients to seek health resorts, either at home 
or abroad, when they were far too weak to 
travel. Thus some patients were sent to the 
sea, others to the neighbourhood of pine 
forests, others to high altitudes in order to 
enjoy the benefits of mountain air; others 
again to warm, others to cold or dry, climates. 
At the Sanctuary Club we had, by virtue of our 
modern scientific knowledge, the means of 
producing such conditions artificially. Heat, 
cold, humidity, dryness, even barometric pres- 
sure, or any other required constituent of the 
air, were mere matters of mechanical or 
chemical detail. Mineral waters of the exact 
composition of those, at the springs of home 
or Continental spas could be reproduced in 
our laboratory. Every appliance that science 
or art could suggest for the alleviation of 
suffering humanity would be worked by an 
efficient and well-qualified staff. 

This had been my dream for years, and 
now, with the aid of my friend Henry 
Chetwynd, it was about to be realized. From 
the first our scheme proved attractive to 
those unfortunate members of the community 
who, suffering as they were, were only too 
keen to try a new thing. Our club opened 
with a hundred members, and before a year 
had expired we had nearly three hundred 
resident patients in the house. 

Those members of the Sanctuary Club 
who only suffered from slight maladies could 
come occasionally for consultation, and at 
any time enjoy the benefit of our large reading 
and refreshment rooms, and our carefully- 
laid-out and luxurious grounds. But it was 
the indoor members, those who lived under 
our roof, who excited my keenest, strongest, 
and most life-long interest. 

Strange cases came Xo my knowledge, 

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stories of the most thrilling and absorbing 
interest fell to my lot to listen to and 
sympathize with. There were cases, and 
not a few, when it was my privilege and also 
my bounden duty to act not only as doctor 
but as personal friend. From time to time 
my brother doctor and I had to face adven- 
tures the most thrilling and dangers of so 
hair- breadth a character, that even now my 
pulse quickens when I think of them. 

The following stones relate some of our 
most vivid experiences : — 



one of the earliest members of 
the club. She was a beautiful 
and distinguished-looking young 
woman of about thirty years of 

age. She herself belonged to the noble 

house of Hampton, but she had married a 
'cornmoner of apparently colossal wealth. 

She was the Earl of Hampton's only daughter, 

but she had several brothers, and also two 

children of her own. The good things 

of life seemed to have fallen abundantly 

to her share — beauty, riches, and the 

devoted love of an excellent 

husband— but nevertheless she ! 

was a victim. She suffered 

from an extraordinary kind 

of nervousness, which, without 

ever approaching the border- 
land of the insane 3 caused 

her sleepless nights and days 

of apprehension and misery. 
When the first prospectus 

of the Sanctuary Club reached 

her, she eagerly availed herself 

of this chance of cure, and 

was speedily installed in the 

most comfortable suite of 

rooms in the house. Lady 

Helen was too courteous and 

kind-hearted to inflict her own 

sufferings on others ; she was 

full of tact and sympathy, and 

soon became a vast favourite 

in the bouse. She could sing 

beautifully, could lead the 

games, make dull people 

bright and sad people merry, 

and in particular attracted the 

attention of another member 

of the club, a certain Sefior 

Don Santos, who had also 

come to the Sanctuary seeking 

health and cure. 

Don Santos lived in a large mansion called 
Roe House in the neighbourhood of 
Wimbledon Common, and was said to be not 
only very rich, but was also known to possess 
one of the finest private collections of art 
treasures in England, Don Santos and Lad; 
Helen soon became great friends they had 
many tastes in common, and used to spend 
hours talking about those gems of art, those 
priceless possessions, which, handed down 
from father to son, are the heirlooms of many 

Don Santos, however, had not the same 
power of dissimulating his misery as lady 
Helen had — Chetwynd believed him to be 
suffering from incipient insanity, and there 
were times when his moody eye and fierce 
and yet abstracted manner seemed abundantly 
to carry out this suggestion, 

U I do not like the man," said Chetwynd ; 
"he is either insane or he is a devil in- 
carnate. I wish Lady Helen were not so 
friendly with him." 

"You have taken a prejudice, Chetwynd," 
1 said, looking at my friend, 

Chetwynd gave me one of his quick 
glances. His was a curious personality, and 
it is impossible to continue these stories 

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'CHHTrtYMl CiAVV ME tth£ dF Hl» ql'ICK W-AsCI *■ 

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without saying a few words about him. He 
was a little man, with a slightly deformed 
body, a plain face, and large head. But he 
had that sparkle and depth of meaning in 
his clear, golden brown eyes which often 
seem to be an accompaniment of physical 
deformity. It was in his power to express 
volumes by a single glance, and I often 
observed that he had more power over his 
patients than I ever hoped to possess. He 
was a man of few words, but his devotion to 
duty was unflinching and his indifference 
to danger almost stoical. There was little 
doubt that he was deeply imbued with the 
principles of some fine philosophy or faith. 
Also beneath his sphinx-like gravity there 
lurked a vein of rich humour, which made 
him, when he chose to exert himself, the 
best of companions. 

Now, as he spoke of Don Santos he rose 
and paced up and down his room. 

41 I am sorry that the man has taken a 
liking to Lady Helen Trevor," he said, " but 
I am still more disturbed at his friendship 
for my own special protegk, John Ingram." 

*' Ah ! you are devoted to Ingram ; you 
almost spoil the lad," I could not help saying. 

" No one could spoil one so simple- 
minded," answered my brother physician ; 
'' he is one of the best fellows I know, and 
his devotion to his mother is beyond all 

" What of his health ? " I said. 

" He is deriving benefit from our treat- 
ment," said Chetwynd, in a cheerful voice. 
"The paroxysms of neuralgic agony are 
much less frequent than of old — he will 
quite recover if he stays here long enough." 

" By the way," I said, after a moment's 
pause, " you paid his entrance fee here, did 
you not ? " 

"What if I did?" was the somewhat 
vague answer. 

Just then the step of a patient was heard 
in the corridor, and I could not pursue the 
subject further. 

That evening Lady Helen Trevor and 
Senor Don Santos had an eager conversation 
over an old casket, called the Catalini Casket, 
which had been for years in the Hampton 
family, and which Don Santos honestly said 
he would give the world to possess. Ingram 
joined in the talk, and I also was interested 
by the lady's description of the matchless 
casket, made of an enormous onyx stone, 
and richly incrusted with diamonds, rubies, 
sapphires, and emeralds. 

A few days later these three members of 
the club took their departure, all sounding 

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its praises and promising to visit it again. 
I^ady Helen returned to her husband and 
children ; Senor Don Santos to resume the 
control of his magnificent museum ;* and 
John Ingram, who was a commission agent 
in the City, to his usual employment. 

The Sanctuary Club \yas opened in the 
early spring of 1890, and it was in the late 
autumn of that same year that I next saw 
Ingram. One afternoon, between five and 
six o'clock, he burst unceremoniously into 
my consulting-room. 

" You must forgive me," he cried. " Chet- 
wynd is out, or I would have seen him, but 
I cannot rest until I confide in someone, 
and you will tell Chetwynd, I know. The 
most splendid luck has fallen in my way. 
I can scarcely believe in my own good 

44 Sit down, Ingram," I said. " Why, how 
excited you look ; what can have happened ? " 

" You know that we are poor, Dr. Cato, 
and that but for Chetwynd's generosfty I 
could never have afforded to join the club. 
What don't I owe to the Sanctuary Club — 
not only my recovery to health, but also the 
acquaintanceship of" — he hesitated and 
dropped his voice — " of those who will make 
my fortune. But there, I am under a 
promise not to mention names. Chetwynd 
may have told you how my mother looks to 
me for support — it is one of my day-dreams 
to have her to live with me. Well, I am in 
a fair way to have that day-dream realized. 
I am just about to receive a commission — 
5 per cent on ,£7,000. That means £350, 
all earned in one day. Think of that for a 
novice ! " 

" But how have you done it ? " I asked. 

" Ah ! that I cannot explain — I am bound 
to secrecy, but what I tell you is true. I will 
call again to-morrow, and if you like, will 
show you the cheque. Yes, I am a made 
man, for other commissions will doubtless 
follow from the same source. But I cannot 
stay another instant. Tell Chetwynd, and 
wish me luck, Dr. Cato." 

I did so heartily — I liked the bright-eyed, 
happy-looking young fellow, and could not 
but rejoice in his unlooked-for prosperity. 
When Chetwynd returned I mentioned 
Ingram's visit. To my astonishment the 
little doctor looked grave and disturbed. 

" I wish I had been at home," he said. 
"I don't like this a bit Of course, it 
means " 

" What ? " I interrupted. 

" The Spaniard has a finger in this pie — I 
don't like it, Cato," 

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" Now, what do you mean ? " 1 asked. 

"Senor Don Santos was far too friendly 
with Ingram when they wore both here. I 
distrust the man thoroughly. There is no 
douht that on some points he is insane— he 
is also unscrupulous, and to attain his ends 
would stop at nothing." 

"Oh! you are over-suspicious," was my 
answer, "There is no use in labelling any 
man scoundrel until he has proved himself 
one, and what the Spaniard has to do with 
Ingram beats my comprehension/' 

"Why, Paul, are you blind? Who else 
would give Ingram a commission of that 
magnitude? Doubtless, when he left here, 
he was going to Wimbledon, I don't like it 
at all ; what is more, I have a good mind to 
follow him." 

To this remark I made no reply. I knew 
that in certain moods my friend Chetwynd 
would brook no interference. If he chose 
to follow Ingram on a wild-goose chase, it 
was his own affair. I thought little more of 
the circumstance during that evening, being 
much engaged with some anxious cases. 
Little did I guess the next news which was 
to reach me. About ten o'clock the follow- 
ing morning Chetwynd burst into my room. 


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His face was white, and his big, queer-looking 
eyes were shining with a curious expression. 
He spoke very quietly, however. 

"I was right in my conjectures/ 8 he said, 
and he dropped into a chair. 
" What do you mean ? " I cried. 
" Ingram is dead," 

"What?" I answered, springing to my 

" Yes — he was found dead this morning on 
Wimbledon Common, The following are the 
details." Chetwynd spoke in an almost 
monotonous voice, but I knew with what an 
effort he was keeping himself under control. 

*' You remember my words of last night ? 
When I went to bed I could not sleep. 
Each moment I felt more fearful and uncom- 
fortable. Finally I resolved to go to 
Wimbledon as soon as the day broke. I 
cycled over, and went in the direction of the 
Spaniard's place, Roe House, When I got 
within three hundred yards of the house I 
saw a crowd collected* I went up to them. 
They were clustered round John Ingram's 
dead body. The poor fellow had been 
found by one of the rangers. He was lying 
about three hundred yards from one of the 
main roads, beside a clump of gorse bushes. 

The man gave the 
alarm, and the police, 
when they arrived, 
said that he must 
have wandered or- 
been decoyed off the 
road and murdered. 
But the point which 
astonishes and horri- 
fies everyone is the 
merciless and brutal 
character of the 
murder. The assail- 
ant must have been 
possessed of super- 
human strength, for 
Ingram had evidently 
been hurled to the 
ground with the 
utmost violence. 
Indeed, his injuries 
were so extensive 
and lus fractures so 
numerous, that it 
seems almost impos- 
sible that the murder 
was the work of any 
one human being. 
Another strange thing 
is that there are no 
marks round the spot 

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to give evidence of a struggle. It is all most 
horrible. I cannot understand it." 

" Do you still hold to your queer opinions 
with regard to Don Santos ? " I asked, when I 
could find my voice. 

" I do and I don't. The whole thing is 
inexplicable : unless he threw the poor fellow 
from a balloon, I have not the slightest idea 
how he killed him. Well, Ingram is dead 
past recall. I pity his poor mother. I wish 
to God I had gone to Wimbledon last night." 

I started up. 

" I will go to Wimbledon myself," I said. 
" I cannot rest until I know more." 

Chetwynd said nothing to dissuade me — he 
looked queer and unlike himself. I took the 
next train to town, and arrived at the scene 
of the murder in the course of the morn- 
ing. Poor Ingram's body had been re- 
moved, in preparation for the coroner's in- 
quest, to the nearest inn. I was admitted 
to see him, and heard the opinions of 
many experts who had been called in. One 
and all denied that the murder was the work 
of a human being, though they frankly 
admitted that they could offer no suggestion 
as an alternative argument. I personally 
could give no information except a report of 
Ingram's last words to me on the previous 
day. Suddenly it flashed through my mind 
that I would call upon Senor Don Santos 
and tell him the whole story. He had been 
interested in Ingram. If Chetwynd's surmise 
was right, he had something to do with the 
large commission which the poor fellow was 
to earn. Roe House was situated on the 
edge of the Common. The house itself was 
large and built in the modern style. It was 
surrounded by private grounds, and there 
were thick trees growing up almost to the 
front door. 

I rang the bell. It was answered immedi- 
ately by a demure-looking, elderly servant in 
livery. In reply to my query he told me 
that his master was within, and invited me to 
enter. I was shown into a lofty dining-room 
sumptuously furnished. I was in no mood, 
however, to notice the antique oak and rare 
vases of old Sfevres and Chelsea porcelain 
which decorated the walls. The Spaniard 
entered. He held out his hand with a 
pleasant greeting. 

" It is kind of you to call, Dr. Cato," he 
said. "I'm pleased to see you." 

" I have come," I answered, " not only to 
see you, senor, but to acquaint you with a 
painful affair." 

" What is that ? " he asked. 

" You remember Ingram — that nice young 

fellow who you were so kind to when stay- 
ing at the Sanctuary in the spring ? " 

" I remember him perfectly." 

" I have just seen his dead body.'' 

Don Santos started, and his swarthy face 
turned pale. 

"Ingram dead?" he cried, after a pause ; 
" that accounts. But I am interrupting you, 
Dr. Cato ; when and how did he die ? " 

" He was found this morning three hundred 
yards from your gate, injured almost past 
recognition, dead, foully murdered." 

Don Santos was quite silent for a moment; 
then he said, slowly : — 

"And you have called here because you 
thought this news would interest me ? " 

" I called for a double reason," I replied. 
" First, because your friendship for the poor 
fellow entitled you to know of his death, and 
partly because I hoped that you might be 
able to throw light on a ghastly occurrence." 

" I did not murder him, if that is what you 
mean," answered Don Santos." 

" If I thought that I should scarcely have 
asked to see you," was my reply. 

He laughed. 

" My dear fellow, forgive an unseemly 
joke. The fact is, your news has unnerved 
me. Unfortunately, I can throw what will 
be a very lurid light on this affair. But tell 
me first — have you seen Ingram lately ? " 

" I saw him last evening. He came to 
bring Chetwynd and myself an excellent 
piece of news. A friend, whose name he 
would not divulge, had given him a magnifi- 
cent commission — he was nearly beside him- 
self with joy." 

"He would not give you the name of his 
friend ? " 

" No." 

" I can supply it. I am the person. Two 
days ago I learned, through a mere accident, 
that the celebrated pearl necklace in the 
Forsyth collection was to be sold yesterday 
at Christie's. As I did not wish to appear 
in the matter, I commissioned Ingram to 
buy it for me, giving him power to bid 
as high as ^7,000. I had a telegram 
from him yesterday, which I can show you, 
saying that he had secured the necklace for 
my figure, and would bring it to .me in the 
course of the evening. I waited up for him 
until past midnight ; he did not appear, and 
I went to bed." 

" Then you never received the necklace ? " 

" No." 

"This inmost important. Of course, the 
poor fellow was robbed and murdered, for 
there was nothing of value on his person. 

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The coroner is probably now at the Sign of 
the ] )ragon ; will you come with me ? ? ' 

"Willingly/' answered Don Santos, He 
put on his hat and accompanied me* His 
evidence was given quietly. It, of course, 
supplied a motive for the murder ; but how 
the d^d was accomplished, how the mur- 
derers got away, and where the celebrated 
necklace now was, remained wrapped in 

Time went on and nothing transpired to 
throw light upon the occurrence. Everything 
conceivable was done, the most unlikely clues 
followed up, but the police had at last to 
confess that they were nonplussed. 

One afternoon, towards the end of the 
following May, I was walking In my grounds 
when I was attracted by the arrival of a cab 
just outside the principal entrance. A tall 
lady, in deep mourning, hut rather shabbily 
dressed j got out and walked up the drive. 
She paused when she saw me, hesitated, and 
then raising her eyes, said :— 

"Am I addressing Dr. Paul Cato?" 

"That is my name/' I answered; "is 
there anything I can do for you ? " 

" I am Mrs. Ingram/' was her reply. 
"You knew my son and were kind to him* 

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May I speak to you in private for 
a few moments ? " 

"Certainly," I said, much in- 
terest coming into my voice. I 
took the lady immediately into my 
private study. Closing the door, 
I asked her to seat herself. 

"1 knew your son well," I 
remarked, "and took a deep in- 
terest in him. His death has 
caused me the greatest pain*" 

She raised her hand to interrupt 
my words. 

"I beg of you to allude as little 
as possible to personal feelings in 
this matter," she said. "It is with 
an effort I can keep my grief 
under control, and I do not mean 
—I am determined not— to give 

Her face changed from red to 
white as she spoke and her lips 
trembled. After a moment, how- 
ever, she spoke very quietly* 

" I want to talk business with 
you — do you understand ?" 
"Perfectly," I said 
"It is my intention to trace this 
murder to its source. I have come 
here for the purpose. I would have 
seen you before, Dr. Cato, but 
after the shock of my son's death I was ill. 
A blank surrounds that dreadful time - I had 
fever and, luckily for myself, was unconscious. 
I have now recovered, and have one object 
left in life* I mean to bring the man who 
deprived my boy of his young existence to 
the gallows." 

" My hand on it, madam/ 1 I could not 
help saying — " your wish is mine." 

" Thank you," she answered- A sudden 
fire filled her dark eyes, the colour rushed 
into her cheeks. 

" If that object can be effected I shall die 
happy," she continued. "Now may I ask 
you one or two questions ? " 
" As many as you please*" 
"Will you give me, quietly and impartially, 
an exact account of the murder the 
appearance of the body when it was found, 
where it was found, and everything else?" 

I complied -I told the mother of the 
murdered man the whole sad history* She 
would not allow me to shirk anything, nor did 
I try to. When I had done she said : — 

"My son knew Scnor Don Santos. The 
sen or lives on Wimbledon Common. His 
house is called Roe House, My sun wrote 
to me constantly about him : the Spaniard 

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had evidently attracted him to a remarkable 
degree. How far from the spot where the 
body was found is the residence of Don 
Santos ? " 

"The body was found about three 
hundred yards from Roe House," was 
my reply. 

"Ah," she said, "I thought as much. 
Has no one seen Don Santos in connection 
with the murder ? " 

" I visited him immediately afterwards. 
He told me that he had commissioned your 
son to buy him a valuable necklace. He 
expected your son to visit him on the 
evening when the murder was committed in 
order to hand him over the necklace, when 
your son was to receive his commission, a 
sum amounting to ^350. Ingram never 
reached Roe House, and beyond doubt the 
murderer absconded with the necklace." 

"So that is Don Santos's story," replied 
Mrs. Ingram, very slowly. " Will you listen 
to me ? I have every reason to believe — nay 
more, I am certain of the fact — that my son 
did visit Senor Don Santos on the evening of 
the day on which he was murdered, and did 
hand him over the necklace. I have more 
than one reason for the very firm opinion 
which I have formed. In the first place, 
Don Santos is not a man of honour." 

"Now, what can you mean ? " I said. 

" He commissioned my son to purchase a 
valuable necklace, telling him that he might 
bid as high as ^7,000 for it. My son was 
to bring him the necklace, and on receipt of 
it he was to be paid ,£7,000 and his own 
commission of 5 per cent. My son, reck- 
less with joy at the thought of securing so 
large a sum, had borrowed the ^7,000 from 
a dealer in order to go to Christie's to pay 
for the necklace. On my son's murder, this 
dealtf", Robertson by name, applied to Don 
Santos to restore the money, declaring that 
the order was practically his, and that he 
ought to make good the loss. Don Santos 
absolutely declined to pay one penny." 

" And how has the debt been met ? " I 

" By me, Dr. Cato. All I possess in the 
world of ready capital has been raised to 
clear my son's honour. I have paid Mr. 
Robertson to the last farthing. I have now 
nothing in the world to live on but a small 
annuity which I inherited from my husband 
of £$0 a year." 

I felt my heart beat high with indignation. 
There was nothing to say, however, and the 
widow proceeded : — 

My other reason for believing that there 

Vol xviii.— 2. 

has been foul play is on account of a dream, 
a curious and very vivid dream which I had." 

" Indeed," I said, gravely. I naturally did 
not believe in dreams, but the face of the 
woman opposite to me, in its intense and 
tragic earnestness, forbade a smile. 

" I can guess something of your thought, 
Dr. Cato," she continued, " but there are 
dreams which have elements of truth in them. 
Let me tell you mine. On the night when my 
boy was murdered, I dreamt that he visited 
Don Santos at Roe House, that he gave the 
Spaniard the pearl necklace, and sat with him 
for a time on the wide veranda of his house." 

" I did not know the house had a veranda ! " 
I exclaimed. 

" In my dream I saw a veranda with great 
distinctness. It was on the second floor. 
This veranda was inclosed by a stone balus- 
trade, and there were several deck chairs 
about and some small, round tables. My 
son and Don Santos sat there together that 
night and smoked. My dream was so vivid 
that I could almost hear what they were 
saying, and I noticed the expression on the 
Spaniard's face. I tell you, Dr. Cato, it was 
diabolical. I would have seen you before 
on the subject of my dream but for my 
queer illness. That dream was not sent to 
me for nothing." 

" Go on," I said, " what followed ? You 
say you heard Don Santos speak and you 
saw his face. What came next ? " 

"Nothing," she replied; "a great black- 
ness fell over me — I no longer saw the 
figures on the veranda. I awoke struggling 
for breath and screaming. I do not know 
any more." 

" Then owing to your dream you are under 
the impression that Don Santos is connected 
with the murder ? " 

" He is at the bottom of the whole thing," 
she replied. 

I sat silent for a few moments, Mrs. Ingram 
facing me. Her eyes, with that look of 
absolute confidence in them, were uncanny ; 
the firm conviction of her words could not 
but impress me. Chetwynd would doubtless 
have shared her suspicions, but I could 
scarcely give credence to her story. Because 
a woman dreamt a ghastly dream, was a 
person, to all appearance innocent, to be 
accused of crime ? Nevertheless, Don Santos 
must be a scoundrel not to have made some 
effort to replace the ^7,000 which Ingram 
had borrowed to purchase the necklace. 

" What can I do for you ? " I said, after a 

"This," she replied, instantly — "I want 






you to go and see the Spaniard. I cannot 
go myself, for the moment he saw me he 
would lie on his guard. Pay him a friendly 
visit, and find out if there is such a veranda 
to the house as I have just described. Get 
him to talk about my son : watch him closely. 


If you will do this for me, it is all I ask* He 
does not suspect you ; will you go, and at 
once ? " 

14 1 have not the slightest objection to 
visiting Don Santos," I said, after a pause, 
"and if it will relieve your mind 1 will call 
upon him." 

"Then, go now, this afternoon — there is 
no time to lose*'' 

Her wild words impelled me. I had 
nothing special to do, and started off for 
Wimbledon within the hour, I was admitted 
to Don Santos ? s presence. He received me 
quietly and with his usual courtesy. 

" I am delighted to see you, Dr. Cato, 1 ' he 
said. " I was just writing to you," 

" What about ? " I asked. 

" I want to pay a visit to the Sanctuary 
next week. I am not well ; some of my old 
painful symptoms have reappeared. Chet- 
wynd had a soothing influence over me — his 
treatment served me marvellously. Can you 
take me in next week ? " 

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" With pleasure," I answered, " but I am 
sorry you are feeling indisposed. " 

" It has been coming on gradually. Chet- 
wynd will soon restore me to my normal 
health. Ry the way, you don't look too 
well yourself, Dr. Cato. You have quite a 

haggard look in 
your eyes + You take 
poor Ingram's 
murder to heart. 
Tli at will never do. 
By the way, has any 
fresh light been 
thrown upon the 
mysterious affair 
since I saw you 
last ? " 

"None wha te vcr, " 
I answered. 

"Ah," he said, 
looking thoughtful ; 
" it is one of those 
mysteries which will 
not be revealed 
until the Hay of 
Judgment. Now 
that you have come, 
doctor, I shall insist 
on your dining with 

I thought for a 

moment, and then 

<^57 determined to ac- 

<* 1 cept the invitation. 

*'AKLV h Don Santos rang 

his bell and gave 
directions to a servant who appeared. Not 
long afterwards he and I found ourselves 
seated at a little oval table in the big 
dining-room. As we ate my host talked 
well and brilliantly. Certainly he was an 
interesting man, and his knowledge of art 
treasures was extensive. 

The meal lasted for over an hour, and 
during that time I had almost forgotten Mrs. 
Ingram, her curious dream, and her nameless 
suspicions. The dream, however, and the 
suspicions were revived when Don Santos 
said, in a hearty voice : 

"The night is fine — let us go up and 
smoke on the veranda." 

" The veranda ! " I could not help 

" Yes, have I not shown it to you ? It is 
one of the specialities of my house. I had 
it built according to my own ideas. On the 
hottest day in summer you get a breeze there, 
and I generally smoke my last Havana there 
before retiring to rest j but come," 

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As he spoke he led the way upstairs, and, 
opening a door on the second floor, just as 
the widow had described in her dream, we 
entered an extensive veranda. As I looked 
at it I could not help starting. It was in- 
closed by a stone balustrade, upon which 
were fixed by uprights iron rails which ran 
round it. There were several deck chairs, 
just as the widow had mentioned, and there 
were also some small, round tables. The 
night was starlit and warm. As I seated my- 
self in a comfortable deck chair and lit a cigar 
I noticed that my host was listless and silent. 

A sudden impulse came over me. 

"Do you know," I said, watching him 
narrowly as I spoke, " that I had an interview 
to-day of a somewhat painful nature." 

" Indeed," he replied. 

" With no less a person than Mrs. Ingram, 
the mother of the poor fellow who was 
murdered. She told me of a dream she had. 
She dreamt that you and her son were seated 
on this balcony." 

" Ah," he said, impatiently, " we never sat 
here. I often meant to have him to dine 
with me. On that one eventful night I 
waited long for him, but he never came. I 
could not account for his non-appearance." 
The Spaniard spoke softly and with much 
sadness in his tone. 

" There is one thing, Don Santos," I said, 
suddenly ; " you will forgive me, but perhaps 
you do not realize that Mrs. Ingram is a poor 
woman. Her son borrowed ^7,000 to buy 
that necklace for you. Is it fair that she 
should have to pay it back ? " 

In a moment he had turned upon me, his 
whole face distorted with the most livid 

" Why do you interfere ? " he said ; " you 
had much better not. My God ! If you 
only knew ! I will pay that woman the 
^7,000 in full when I get the necklace, not 
before. Tell her to move Heaven and earth 
to get it back for me, and she shall be paid 
then in full, every farthing, but not before — 
my God ! I have spoken — not before." 

His voice quivered, he suddenly left my 
side and began to stride rapidly up and down 
the veranda — there was almost the ring of a 
madman in his tones. I saw I had gone too 
far, and was about to soothe him when he 
suddenly came back and spoke in his 
accustomed voice. 

" I told you that my nerves were giving 
way — there are moments when I can scarcely 
contain myself. I must come to the Sanctu- 
ary as quickly as possible and put myself 
under Chetwynd's treatment," 

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" And I will not keep you longer now," I 
said. " I have tired you." 

"You have upset me," he said, brusquely. 
" Forgive me for being rough, but there are 
some things I cannot bear. Well, if you 
must go — you must." 

A few moments later I had taken my 
leave of him. 

As soon as I entered the Sanctuary on my 
return, I was greeted by Chetwynd. 

" I want to speak to you," he said. There 
was some slight excitement in his manner. 
I noticed it. 

"You will be interested to hear," I re- 
marked, "that I have just been paying a 
visit to our old patient, Don Santos. You 
ought to go and see him — Roe House is 
worth visiting." 

"Ah," replied Chetwynd, "you know my 
opinion of that man, Cato. Come with me 
into my private consulting-room, won't you? 
I have something to say." 

I went with him. He turned at once and 
spoke to me about Mrs. Ingram. 

" I have seen her," he said ; " she told 
me that she had asked you to visit Don 
Santos. She also mentioned her most extra- 
ordinary dream." 

" I said I would try to verify it for her, " 
was my remark. 

" Have you done so ? " 

"Strange to say, Chetwynd, I have — at 
least the part in which she describes the 
veranda. It is there, and just as she spoke 
of it, but doubtless the thing can be ex- 
plained. Ingram must have mentioned it to 
her in one of his many letters." 

Chetwynd was silent. 

" By the way," I continued, after a pause, 
" you will have to put up with Don Santos, 
whether you like him or not. Next week he 
is coming here again." 

" The old symptoms ? " asked my brother 

" He complains of them." 

" That man will end in an asylum," said 
Chetwynd, briefly. " I am sorry he is coming 

" I could not refuse him admission to his 
own club," I answered. 

" Of course not. By the way, we seem to 
be doomed to have old patients back again. 
I have just received a letter from Lady 
Helen Trevor ; she arrives to-morrow." 

"Indeed," I said, "she was a very pleasant 
visitor \ we ought to be glad to welcome 

" By the way," said Chetwynd, quietly, 
" Don Santos may not find things so pleasant 

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as he imagines at the Sanctuary Club. Did 
I tell you that Mrs. Ingram is coming here 
also to-morrow ? " 

" Indeed, but how. She is not a member. " 

"She comes as my guest. You remem- 
ber that you and I always have the privilege 
of asking guests here from time to time." 

" Certainly, but are you acting wisely in 
extending this invitation to a hysterical 
woman ? " 

" You are hard on her, Cato, and also 
unjust. Mrs. Ingram possesses absolute self- 
control. Her mind is perfectly balanced ; 
and as to her dream — well, think what you 
like of me, old fellow, but I believe in it" 

I could say nothing further. In certain 
moods it was impossible to control Chet- 
wynd — he was determined to saddle a 
foul crime upon Don Santos, and what 
the end would be remained shrouded in 

The next day Lady Helen arrived. She 
looked older than when I had last seen her, 
and there was evidently a very serious care 
weighing upon her mind. On the first even- 
ing of her visit she spoke to me. 

" I have not forgotten the gentleman who 
was an inmate of this house when I was last 
here," she said. 

" Do you refer to Senor Don Santos ? " I 

" Yes,'' she replied. 

" You are likely to meet him again. He is 
coming back next week." 

" Indeed/' she answered. She looked 
pleased and relieved. Looking full at me 
she said, suddenly, " I want to take you into 
my confidence — may I ? " 

" If I can be of use to you, I shall be 
pleased to listen to anything you have got to 
say," was my answer. 

" Well, it is this. At the present moment 
I am sorely in want of money — a good sum, 

"But I thought your husband was a 
millionaire ? " 

" He is rich, no doubt, but not quite so 
rich as people give him credit for. In the 
present matter, however, it is impossible for 
me to apply to him. Now, I must get the 
money — ,£5,000 — as soon as possible, and 
it has occurred to me that Don Santos can 
help me. I mean to ask him for his aid." 

" I wish you would not," I could not help 

She opened her eyes wide in some surprise. 

" I must," she said ; " my need is very 
pressing ; in fact, I may as well own to you 
that I have come to the Sanctuary Club 

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more in the hopes of meeting Don Santos 
than anything else." 

I stared at her in some surprise. I did not 
like to press more fully for her confidence, 
but what did she mean? She was young 
and handsome — what could she have in 
common with a man of the Spaniard's type ? 

The next week the senor arrived. He 
was gentle and courteous, his friendship with 
Lady Helen was quickly renewed, and, to 
my astonishment, he also took special pains 
to be polite to Mrs. Ingram. That strange 
woman by no means repelled his attentions. 
On the contrary, she often sought him out, 
and they had long and interesting conversa- 
tions together. 

The days passed without anything special 
occurring. At last, on a certain morning, 
Lady Helen came to see me. 

" Will you help me ? " she said, impulsively ; 
" if you will, I can get what I require." 

" What do you want me to do ? " I asked. 

" Don Santos has promised to advance 
me a loan of £5,000 on a condition." 

" And what is that ? " I asked. 

She made a slight pause ; her large brown 
eyes were full of restlessness. 

" I must give you my full confidence," she 
said then. " I want the money for my 
brother — my favourite youngest brother. He 
has got into terrible trouble— he is reckless, 
defiant of the ordinary rules of society. He 
has always been something of a spoilt darling. 
When my mother died she left him in my 
care. He has got into debt. My husband 
is jealous of my great love for him, and will 
not help him with so much as a pound. 
Something must be done immediately, so I 
am determined to come to the rescue. If I 
can get £5,000 from Don Santos, my 
brother's most pressing debts will be paid, 
and he will be saved." 

" What is the condition on which he will 
lend you the money ? " I asked. 

She came a little nearer and dropped her 

" You know the senor's passion for curios 
of all sorts?" she said. "Have you ever 
heard me speak of a casket which we hold 
in my father's family ? It is called the Cata- 
lini Casket--it has belonged to us for four 
hundred years. When I married, my father 
gave it to me as my wedding present, but on 
a condition, a solemn one, that I was never 
to part with it. I did not intend to break 
that condition, but my present need is too 
great. I am going, not to sell the casket, 
but to borrow money on it. Don Santos 
will lend me ,£5,000 if I give him the 

Original from 



casket as security. He returns home to- 

"So soon ? " I interrupted, 

" Yes, He says the uncomfortable symp- 
toms which brought him here have quite 
disappeared, and he is anxious to be home 
again, I am also going back to Yorkshire 
this afternoon, but will return early to-morrow 
with the casket. I want you to take the 
Cutalini Casket to Don Santos to-morrow 
night and to bring me back the money. He 
will pay me in gold, not by cheque — I have 
asked him to do this in order to insure my 
husband never knowing of the transaction. 7 ' 

"But why should I be your messenger? " 

M It is by the senors special request. He 
says that he har, made a rule never to admit 
a woman into Roe House, Oh, you will not 
refuse me? If you will help me in this matter 
I will bless you to the longest day of my life," 

She spoke with passion ; there were tears 
in her eyes; her voice trembled. Perhaps 
Chetwynd might have refused her, but I 
found it impossible to do so. 

"I don't like it," I said, "I will say so 
frankly, but, of course, I cannot decline to be 
your messenger. " 

"Thank you," she answered ; "you cannot 

understand what a relief this is to me. I will 
go and tell Don Santos immediately — he will 
be pleased — he is most anxious to secure the 
casket, and says quite openly and frankly that 
he does not believe I shall ever be able to 
redeem it." 

" And under such circumstances are you 
willing to part with such a treasure?" I 

I niust," she replied ; tl I have no choice," 
She left the room, and a couple of 
moments later Don Santos himself knocked 
at the door of my room. 
" Come in," I said. 

" So you are going to help Lady Helen ? " 
he remarked, closing the door softly behind 
him. H I am very much obliged to you, 
very much obliged indeed. Now listen, 
I have not been here for the last two or 
three days for nothing. That poor woman, 
Mrs. Ingram, has impressed me favourably. 
I cannot part with ^7,000 for a valuable 
necklace which I never received, but 1 will 
letter have half the money, and whenever 
the necklace is traced and brought to me 
she shall Jiave the remainder. If you will 
bring the Catalini Casket to my house 
to-morrow night, you shall have in gold and 
notes the money which Lady 
Helen requires, and also a 
cheque drawn in Mrs, Ingram's 

I thanked him heartily. I 
did not remark then, although 
it occurred to me afterwards, 
that as he spoke he avoided 
looking at me, 

" I am glad you are better," 
I said, 

" Much better- in fact, I 
am quite well. I am restless 
away from my treasures, and 
am going back to them to- 
day." He walked to the 
window as he spoke, and I 
saw him rubbing his hands 
together as though some 
thought was pleasing him very 

" You are in good spirits, 35 
I said, 

" Who would not be at the 
thought of securing so match- 
less and celebrated a casket?" 
" Indeed," I answered ; " I 
know nothing about these 

"If you had ever studied 
the subject of art treasures, 
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Dr. Cato, you must have heard of this 
special casket. It is formed out of one 
enormous onyx, on which are two priceless 
cameos, and around the lid rubies, diamonds, 
emeralds, sapphires, all of enormous value, 
are richly embedded. The casket was fought 
for, struggled for, and lost again and again 
as far back as in the time of the Crusades. 
How it got into the Hampton family remains 
a mystery. It will be mine now." 

" But surely Lady Helen will redeem it ? " 

" Never," he said, softly. He came up to 
me almost on tiptoe, held out his hand, said 
good-bye, and left me. 

That evening, before retiring to rest, I had 
a word or two with Chetwynd. 

" I want to ask you a straight question," I 
said. " Don Santos has been your patient 
once again : do you still suspect him of foul 
play in the matter of Ingram ? " 

He did not answer for a moment ; then he 
said, slowly : — 

"I .would rather not speak of my sus- 
picions. I have just come from a long inter- 
view with Mrs. Ingram; she interests me 

"Well, I have_ something to say," I con- 
tinued. " I am going to visit the Spaniard 
at Roe House to-morrow evening. I have 
been commissioned to execute some business 
for him." 

" The deuce you have ! " he cried, springing 
to his feet. " Are you mad ? " 

" I hope not ; and, by the way, the man's 
visit here has not been without fruit. He 
has promised to refund Mrs. Ingram some 
of the money which her son paid for the 

Chetwynd looked grave and anxious. 

" I wish you would not go to Roe House," 
he said, earnestly. 

I laughed. 

" Really, Chetwynd," I answered, " I shall 
begin to think your own nerves are out of 

He was silent for a moment, then he said, 
slowly : — 

"Notwithstanding my duties as doctor 
here, I have toiled over the strange case of 
the murder of John Ingram almost day 
and night, and I now hold a theory too 
fantastic to divulge. This theory is founded 
on a single point. It is this : As I looked at 
poor Ingram's dead body that morning last 
autumn, I saw adhering to his coat a good 
many pine-needles and twigs. Now, the only 
fir trees anywhere near stand in the inclosure 
surrounding Don Santos's house. This 
looked to me as if Ingram must have climbed 

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a fir tree, for he could not have got the 
needles on him unless he had been among 
the small branches." 

" Climbed a fir tree ? What on earth for ? " 
I asked. 

" Ah ! that remains to be answered. Now 
listen, Cato. Have you made up your mind 
to visit Roe House ? " 

" Certainly." 

" In spite of my telling you frankly that I 
consider there is an element of danger in 
your visit ? " 

" In spite of your friendly warning." 

"Then I will cease to urge you not to go. 
On the contrary, I consider that your visit 
may be of the utmost use to me. Go and 
do exactly what Don Santos asks you. If 
he requests you to dine to-morrow night, 
humour him. I shall also go to Wimbledon 
to-morrow ; we will force his hand." 

" Do you mean to come with me to his 
house ? " 

"Not I. He won't know until the last 
moment that I am on the premises. My 
dear fellow, of one thing I am certain — 
Ingram was never murdered on the common." 

" Not murdered on the common ? But he 
was found there. How did he get there ? " 

" That," replied Chetwynd, " is what you 
and I have got to discover, and to-morrow 
night, too. It is a risk — are you prepared to 
run it?" 

" I certainly am. Chetwynd, I am sorry 
for you ; you are bitten by a craze — a craze 
to discover what never can be discovered on 

" We will soon know," was his ambiguous 

Lady Helen returned with the casket 
and put it into my hands, and punctually 
at eight o'clock on the following evening I 
arrived at Roe House, carrying the treasure 
with me. The moment I rang the bell the 
door was opened by Don Santos himself. 

"Well," he cried, eagerly, "have you got 

" Yes," I replied. 

"Capital. Come into my study. You 
have done well." 

We both entered. I took the precious 
casket out of its wrappings and gave it to 
him. He went over to the nearest window 
and examined it carefully. I noticed a queer 
smile of avarice on his features. 

" You will dine ? " he said, looking at me. 

" If you wish it," I answered. 

" That is right, I have not yet received 
the necessary notes and gold from the bank. 
I sent a special messenger for them early 



to-day. They will come, doubtless, in the 
course of the evening. Lady Helen specially 
stipulated to be paid in gold and notes. Of 
course, in a case of this kind one must 
submit to the caprices of a woman, and the 
money will be here by the time we have 
done dinner," 

" My time is yours," I answered ; "I have 
nothing special to hurry me back/' 

" Good, very good. 
It is a delightful 
summer's e ven i ng — 
we shall enjoy our- 
selves on the veranda 
afterwards. May I 
take you to a room 
now to wash your 

I was somewhat 
surprised at his act- 
ing as his own servant, 
The house, too, 
seemed silent and 
deserted. In a few 
moments we were 
seated before a 
sumptuous cold repast 
in the dining-room, 

u I hate your hot 
English dinners," 
said Santos, apologe- 
tically ; " besides, it 
means keeping a lot 
of servants around 
one* Now, my wants 
are few, and it is 
so much more con- 
venient to wait on 
ourselves than having 
chattering servants 
overhearing every 
word one says." 

The senor spoke 
in a quick, nervous 
way, and there was 
a gleam in his eyes 
which I had noticed 
with more or less 
apprehension when he 
was suffering from his 

worst attacks at the Sanctuary. Suddenly, 
as I sat before that dinner table, some of the 
fears which had infected Chetvvynd began to 
visit me. I lost my appetite. I wished 
myself anywhere than where I was. Hon 
Santos was a stronger man than I : more 
muscular, with more physical power. Should 
occasion demand it, the strength of a madman 
might be his. Beyond doubt he was the 



victim of incipient insanity. His conversation 
as dinner proceeded took a strange turm He 
talked of himself in a most confidential way. 
Suddenly he rose. 

M How hot the night is," he said; "shall 
we finish our dessert on the veranda ? " 

" With pleasure," I answered. " But I 
hope your messenger will soon come with the 
notes, Santos, for I want to return to Hamp- 

stead before it is too 

"He ought to 
arrive at any moment 
- we will wait for 
him on the veranda. 
Come, let me show 
you the way," 

He led me upstairs, 
and we entered the 
large veranda which 
Mrs, Ingram had so 
faithfully described in 
her dream. It was a 
beautiful starlit night 
and perfectly warm, 

" Take that chair," 
said the senor. He 
pointed to one of the 
deck chairs as he 
spoke* I seated my- 
self and lit a cigar. 
My host also smoked 
silently. We were 
both quiet, drinking 
in the peace and 
beauty of the night. 
At last Don Santos 
stirred restlessly, and 
said, in an abrupt 
tone : - 

" It is strange how 
one's memory reverts 
to bygone events* 
Now, I hate even to 
think of pour Ingram, 
and yet I never come 
to this veranda but 
thoughts of him 
return to me. By the 
way, how far away 
from here did you tell me his body was 
found ? " 

" Not three hundred yards," I answered, 
u Strange, strange. Have you any special 
theory with regard to the murder? " 

" No," I replied, "but my friend Chetwynd 

**HaF' he answered; "and doubtless that 
most interesting lady, Mrs, Ingram, also 
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holds a theory of her own. I must not for- 
get that I am to send her a cheque by 
you to-nigh L I would never wish to be hard 
on women, although I hate them all, By 
the way, Cato, do you know that 1 believe 
that woman, in some queer, unfathomable, 
impossible way, suspects me — me — of the 
murder of Ingram ? " 

11 Nonsense/ 7 I answered* 

He started to his feet 

li I don't think it nonsense, nor does she* 
But 1 believe I heard a ring— that must be 
the messenger with the notes and gold, I 
will let him in." 

It struck me, as Don Santos said this, that 
he must have extraordinary ears, for I had 
certainly heard no bell ring. He left the 
veranda quickly. I sat on in my comfort- 
able chair I heard the sound of his retreat- 
ing footsteps dying away, and then every thing 
was quiet except for the stirring of a slight 
breeze in the top of the dark fir trees. I 


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was relieved that Don Santos was no longer 
by my side. If the man was not mad he 
was next door to it : his words during my 
visit had been more than strange, and there 
was a light in his eyes which 1 had seen 
before, but never in those of a sane person. 
Should I leave the veranda, go downstairs, 
and make my escape? Was I really in 
danger? I could have easily gone away, 
but I^ady Helen had trusted me with her 
commission, and the casket was in the 
Spaniard's possession. I must not leave 
the house without the ,£5,000 which was 
to be Lady Helen's in exchange for the 
Catalini Casket. I must also try to get the 
cheque which the man had promised Mrs, 
Ingram. I was still lying back in my chair 
when a moving shadow cast by a lamp in 
the room behind me suddenly spread across 
the veranda. I started and turned. Great 
heavens! it was Chctwynd himself! He 
rushed towards me, his eyes alight with 
terror, his voice hoarse with 

"For God's sake, Paul, get 
out of that chair," he cried'; 
"jump for your life/' 

There was no time to be 
even surprised. I made one 
bound from the chair> and at 
the same instant something 
whirled through the air close 
behind me. There was a dull 
clang, Chctwynd, gripping my 
arm, pointed up* Neither of 
us could speak. 

Fixed at the extremity of a 
huge steel spring which had 
been concealed as one of the 
planks of the veranda, the chair 
had flown up in a great arc 
above us, the spring had dashed 
against the bars of the iron rail- 
ing, and the c hair checked thus 
suddenly in its flight was sLill 
quivering to and fro from the 
terrific shock of the impact* 

CheLwynd was the first 10 
gain his voice. 

" Hush ! Look ! " he whis- 
pered. Through the doorway, 
leering out into the darkness, 
was the face of the Spaniard. 
The next instant it vanished, 
Chetwynd blew loud blasts on a 
whistle, and we both rushed into 
the room. The man was gone, 
but before we had reached 
the top of the stairs a loud 

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shriek, followed by the sounds of a desperate 
struggle, fell on our ears, and hurrying down 
we saw Doti" Santos struggling like a wild cat 
in the hands of two powerful detectives. It 
was' a horrible sight. Chetwynd turned to 

' " I congratulate you, Cato," he said. 
"Two minutes more and you would have 
been lying amongst the gorse bushes. It 
was a little too near :o be pleasant." He 
looked back ait the seiior, who was still fill- 
ing the great hall with furious imprecations. 
• "Take him to the station, Mitchell," I 
heard Chetwynd say ; " I will be with you 
the first thing to-morrow morning." 

I shuddered. The shock, the suddenness 
of the whole thing, had unnerved me. I felt 
sick and faint. 

" Come, old chap, it's over now," said my 
friend ; "let me get you some brandy." 

We entered the dining-room. The table 
was still strewn with the remains of our 
dinner. Chetwynd lit a candle, and I poured 
out a stiff glass of brandy and gulped it 

" But what does it mean ? " I cried. 

"I suspected it," he answered; "not 
exactly what has happened, but something 
very like it. The seiior is partly mad, but 
more wicked. He had a craze for the collec- 
tion of art treasures, and wanted to secure 
them without paying his victims the necessary 
money. Thus he never intended to pay 
Lady Helen for the Catalini Casket. The 
old story which was repeated once in the case 
of Ingram would have again been the talk 
about you. Your lifeless body would have 
been found in the morning on Wimbledon 
Common, and the police would suppose that 
you had been robbed and murdered. I 
guessed that this was the senor's game, but 
it was impossible for me to tell how he per- 
formed his ghastly feats until I could get 
within the precincts of Roe House. When I 
found that you were really going there, I 
thought my opportunity had come. I resolved 
to watch you, and at the same time to let you 
go into danger. I followed you this evening, 
bringing two detectives in plain clothes with 
me. I perceived that there were no servants in 
the house, which strengthened my suspicions. 
We three managed to get into the garden, 
and watched you as you sat at supper. 
When you went up to the veranda we 
raised a window and got into the house, and 
then began our search. We first made our 
way to the room under the veranda. Come, 



I will show you." He took up a candle as 
he spoke. I followed him. 

" We could hear your yoices above us," 
continued Chetwynd. "When we entered 
the room I struck a light and then saw what 
I will now show you — something that sent me 
flying up to you. Thank God, I was just in 
time. Santos must have gone down the 
other way, so I missed him." 

We had now entered a small, bare room. 
In the centre stood an enormous cogged 
wheel and ratchet, which could be wound by 
a handle. Upon the floor lay a long steel 

" Do you see this ? " said Chetwynd. 
"The chain was used to wind down the 
huge steel spring in the veranda; this cord 
drew back the catch in order to release it, 
and then — well, you saw the rest for yourself. 
One moment more, and it would have flung 
you over the fir-tops and out on to the 
Common, three hundred yards away. Your 
dead body would have been found there in 
the morning. Just as in Ingram's case, there 
would have been no clue. Don Santos 
would have declared that you left the house 
with the money in your possession, thus 
giving the motive for your murder. No 
possible suspicion could have attached to 
him. Paul, I don't wonder you feel shaken, 
but think for your comfort that you have 
avenged Ingram and brought to the gallows 
one of the most crafty, scientific, and satanic 
criminals of the day ! What a stir it will 
make ! " 

The next day Roe House underwent a 
careful examination by some of the ablest 
detectives in London. In all sorts of unlikely 
places treasures of immense worth were hid- 
den. Doubtless they were most of them 
stolen. Amongst others the pearl necklace 
for which poor Ingram was murdered was 
found. It was sold again even for a larger 
figure, and thus Mrs. Ingram got back her 
money. Lady Helen also received the Cata- 
lini Casket uninjured into her trembling 
hands. She had the courage and good 
sense, after so frightful a catastrophe, to 
inform her husband of the truth. He was 
more lenient than she had painted him, and 
her young brother was saved from absolute 

As to Don Santos, even the plea of in- 
sanity availed nothing- -two months later he 
was hanged for his crimes, and the world 
was rid of one of the most consummate 
scoundrels who has ever lived. 

Vol xviii.— 3. 

by Google 

Original from 

Remarkable vies. 

By Harold J, Shepstone, 

N no industry, perhaps, have 
manufacturers so sought to 
bring their particular wares to 
the notice of the public by such 
novel and startling devices as 
in cycle-making. Such intense 
earnestness for something entirely new and 
attractive has been the cause of many 
curious creations in cyrledom, and it is the 
intention of this article to give a description 
of some of the most extraordinary cycles 
which have been built for this purpose, And 
it cannot be denied that many of them must 
have called for much ingenuity and skill on 
the part of their designers and builders, 
while not a few have been put to very 
practical purposes indeed. 

What is certainly the biggest mon- 
strosity the cycling world has ever seen 
is the mammoth tricycle seen in our first 
photograph. It is hardly necessary to add 
that no one but a Yankee could have con- 
ceived the idea of constructing such a 
machine* It was manufactured for the 
Boston Worcn-Hose and Rubber Company, 
and was built with the express purpose of 
advertising the Vim tyre, a tube well known 
on the other side of the Atlantic, Some two 
years ago this giant among tricycles was 

brought to this country s and many will prob- 
ably recollect it, for it was exhibited in the 
windows of a well-known cycle store in 
Hoi born Viaduct It was so large that it 
was found necessary to take it to pieces to 
get it into the shop, and the same process 
had to be repeated when it was removed. 

This monster was not built solely to look 
at , but for touring. It made many trips, 
and our photograph shows the machine and 
its eight riders on their arrival at Brighton, 
The two side wheels are 1 1 ft. high, while the 
steering-wheel is 7ft. high. It has wooden 
rims, which are fitted with single-tube tyres, 
measuring 15m* and i8in. through for the 
large and small wheels respectively. The 
hubs on the two side wheels are iSin. in 
length, and are fitted with spokes of steel 
*4in. thick. Although the tricycle weighs 
nearly a ton complete it can easily be pushed 
along by one person on a level surface, so 
minutely were the bearings made. It is geared 
to fifty -four, and requires eight men to pedal 
it, and another to superintend the steering, 
which is effected by means of a wheel and 
chain. Like all modern cycles, however, it 
is susceptible to punctures, and sustained 
many of these undesirable mishaps during 
the course of its travels, and to locate and 

Fmm a PWc, by] 



[A, IL Fr V , Brighton* 


Original from 



Frvin a\ 



mend a puncture on this enormous cycle was 
no easy task, occupying anywhere from a 
few hours to a couple of days. 

Although the largest tricycle that the brain 
of the cycle-maker could create was capable 
of being ridden, such is not the case with 
the biggest ordinary two- whet 1 safety, This 
machine was built entirely for show purposes, 
and is the property of Messrs* H. A. Lozier 
and Co. T the makers of the well-known 
Cleveland bicycles. Our photograph will 
convey a fair idea of the size of the giant 
wheel, which is shown so distinctly with an 
ordinary bicycle and rider by the side of it. 

The tubing used in its construction had a 
diameter of 61 n., while the wheels have a 
diameter of 15ft, and, like all American 
bicycles, are fitted with single tube tyres, 
which are i8in. in width. The machine is 
made to proportion throughout, even the 
saddle, on which half-andozen men could 
easily find standing room. The spokes are 
^ in. thick, while the gear is no less than 
360m* Given a giant to bestride it, all 
existing records, we imagine, would soon be 

Having described the largest of cyclts it is 
only natural that we should mention the 

Fruma l*h*A& bv\ ram longest cycles.— us^u by the bmnu at the royai 

by GoOgic 

I /.'■ M.WJ ThitU. 



\\ from 




longest, a machine designed to carry twelve 
riders. It is used in the grounds of the 
Royal Normal College for the Blind at Upper 
Norwood, and by the aid of this remarkable 
"iron steed" many a sightless individual has 
enjoyed exhilarating spins awheel in the 
college grounds. It is necessary, of course, 
for one of the crew to be exempt from this 
terrible affliction— loss of sight— and the 
second rider on the machine is the one 
responsible for the steering— not an easy task, 
as anyone who has tried to negotiate corners 
on machines that carry four riders and more 
very well knows. 

Our next illustration shows a quint, a 
machine designed to carry five riders, and 
represents the work of Messrs. Arnold 
Schwin and Co,, of Chicago, who claim that 
it is the only successful multi-cycle ever 
built. It has certainly done some good 
work as a pacing-machine at most of the 
great cycling contests, having been used at 
various races in Paris, Bordeaux, Brussels, 
Berlin, London, and in America, and has no 
doubt done not a little to establish many a 
cycling £t record." It is interesting, however, 
on account of the novel use to which its 
owners have since put it, namely, to advertise 
the " World M bicycle, the name by which 
their machines are known. As will be 
seen in the photograph, all the five riders 
have their heads concealed in globes, in- 
scribed with the word "World." These 
globes are constructed of light wire and 
cloth, having a small aperture in front for 
seeing and breathing. Such a bicycle with 
such a unique crew careering about the 

streets could hardly 
fail to attract even 
the attention and 
admiration of the 
busy, go - ahead 
American citizen. 

The distinction of 
being the youngest 
cyclist in the world 
undoubtedly be- 
longs to Master 
Clarence House, 
age seventeen 
months, who is seen 
in the photograph 
reproduced here- 
with riding his 
diminutive wheel, 
which rejoices in 
the name of the 
Tit-Bits cycle. He 
caused much attrac- 
tion at the last Bradford cycle show, where 
he disported himself on his machine, with 
evident satisfaction to himself as well as to 
the visitors, The total length of the little 
bicycle is but 26in. ; when the rider is seated 
on his machine, the distance from the 
floor to the top of his head is 2ft y}i'm. 
The diameter of the wheels is ioin n length 





From a Phutth by Matn. Am, Brtu&fonL 

Original from 



from a Phata, hy J, fl. Fater t Mir fat*, Va. 

of crank 3 in., and gear 22. Every part 
of the machine was specially made, and 
it is a perfect cycle in every detail. It 
is so small that it can be put upright 
under an ordinary chair, while its rider 
has often taken 


MJ\, has presented our cycling 
prodigy with a gold medal. 

Our next " baby " is a full-grown 
one in the person of " Baby JI Grimes, 
who declares that he is the heaviest 
cyclist in the world, a claim which 
we do not intend to dispute, Our 
photograph depicts the big " baby " 
in racing costume, and naturally his 
plump limbs are very noticeable. 
Grimes has done a great deal f of 
cycling during the last five years, and 
has felt no ill-effects through his in- 
dulgence in the pastime ; on the con- 
trary, he declares that the exercise has 
been the means of keeping him in 
health. He turns the scale at about 
570IU He is 6ft. 4111. high, has a 
chest measurement of 62m., and his 
calves are 22m, round. His flesh, 
too, is as hard and firm as that of a 
well- trained athlete. 

Turning for a moment to the more 
utilitarian purposes to which cycles 
are now being put, we might mention 
the Police Patrol Tricycle, which was 
manufactured by the Davis Sewing 
Machine Co +1 of Dayton, Ohio, about 
a year ago. As will be seen in our 
photograph, the front and rear seats are 
occupied by policemen, while the prisoner is 
seated in the centre, and is unable to give 
any annoyance by moving, as both his hands 
and his feet are strapped. This machine, 



under the dining- 
room table. Little 
Clarence is a fine 
big baby- boy, and 
bicycle and baby 
together turn the 
scale at 3o^lb + 
Already be has re^ 
ceived recognition 
as an able cyclist, 
for he is an honor- 
ary member of the 
Bradford and 
County Cycling 
Club, and his fat her, 
Mr, Albert House, 
who is manager of 
the Bradford Cycle 
and Motor Com- 
pany, has just 
written us to the 
effect that Mr. 
Ernest Flower, 


^ Google 

A roucKAiAN s cycli:— As i/si-:i> tN some or the, American crriESi 
ftona Photo* Lent hy the Itat'i* Sew inn Maehint CU 





Frwia rhi}ta,bit] 

A F IHIv-UA k a cycle* 

[A, H. Fry. Miiffktom. 

the company inform us, is the only cycle ever 
constructed for such a purpose, and is uniquej 
having been in practical use by various police 
departments in several of the American cities. 
Our next photograph is also interesting, as 
it represents a quadricycle fire engine. The 
machine has the appearance of two tandems 
joined together, and the four riders are 
mounted two abreast In the illustration we 
see the pumps are being worked by the 
pedals, the back wheels being thrown off the 
ground It is believed that in outlying districts 
and country towns such a device as this is 
invaluable for getting to the fire quickly, and 
that it has a great future before it- 
Then there is also the rail way -track 
bicycle, another of Uncle Sam's creations, 
though, so far as the writer can learn, 
not very extensively used on the large 
American railways. It would appear, 
too, that it is made exclusively by one 
firm, the Kalamazoo Railway Supply Coin 
pany. In most 
respects it is similar 
to an ordinary 
bicycle, with the 
exception that it 
has a third wheel 
ol ti in. diameter, 
while the conven- 
tional pneumatic 
tyres are dispensed 
with, though the 
tread of the flat 
surface of the 
wheels, which en- 
ables it to run 
smoothly on the 
steel rails, has a 
continuous rubber 
band- These bands 
enable the bicycle 

to adhere more closely to the rails, and so 
lessen the danger of slipping when the rails 
are wet + Given a clear course, the speed 
which can be attained on these machines is 
astonishing, and to get to the scene of an 
accidents or to reach a far-distant signal 
station, is a matter which requires little pre- 
paration provided one of these bicycles is 
forthcoming. With a comparatively low gear 
a speed of twenty miles an hour is easily 



by Google 

Original from 



For variety and novelty in its corn- 
posit ion, it is doubtful if the M iron- 
monger's bicycle" can be beaten. 
The photograph of this curious 
machine has been sent to us by 
Mi. J. Nevil Moore, of Semaphore, 
South Australia, where it was recently 
exhibited in the windows of an enter- 
prising firm of ironmongers. Every 
article that finds a place in its make- 
up can be purchased at the store in 
question, and this statement alone 
will give a fair idea of the immense 
business of this establishment. Two 
large grindstones do service as 
wheels, and a couple of reaping- 
hooks make an excellent imitation 
of a handle-bar. A pair of gas-tongs 
form the fork of the u machine," while 
a truck -wheel and dog-chain combine 
to supply the propelling mechanism. 
The pneumatic principle is to be 
found in the seat, which consists of a 
pair of bellows, while rat traps con- 
stitute quite the approved pattern of 
pedals, Fire-irons, bevels, augers, 
adze and hammer handles, and many 
other familiar articles find a place in 

FrufrifjJ JATHo's CrfAN'f SQCIAESLE, 


obtainable on the level, for, naturally, 
riding on a modern railway track is 
smooth and easy running. 

One of the most novel bicycles 
we have ever seen adaptable for two 
riders is the Jatho Giant Sociable, 
The large wheel of this unique 
machine is 8ft. 6 in. in height, and 
covers a distance of 31 5m. in one 
revolution. The little steering-wheel, 
which is under the control of the 
male rider, is 16111. in height. The 
machine is driven by chains running 
from the right hand and left-hand 
bottom bracket to the hub of the 
large wheel Mr. Karl Jatho, the 
builder and designer of ibis remark 
able cycle, is seated on the farther 
side of the machine, while the other 
seat is occupied by his sister. They 
have taken part in many cycling 
festivals in the principal towns of 
Germany on this curious " steed, " 
which has never failed to attract 
particular attention. The machine 
weighs nearly a hundredweight, and 
cost j€S° to build 

Digitized by Google 


From a Fhvio by Sn^tn ^ £*rw. Fori Atfcfr&fc 





Frviti if Photo, br L. B, Hudum, EUidmrp, ,V, 1", 

this novel bicycle. The rider is, if possible, 
more curiously and wonderfully made. His 
head is nothing more than a hall of hinder- 
twine, surmounted with a cake tin to repre- 
sent a cap. The body is represented by a 
dish -cover, while stove-pipes make excellent 
representations of legs and arms. 

Sailing on dry land has now become a 
possibility, or at least Mr. LE. Hudson, of 
Ellisbur^, N.V., Ins demonstrated his ability 
to rig his bicycle with a sail, and so convert 
it into a " bicycle yacht" The mast is some 
10ft. high, and is rigidly secured to the frame 
of the bicycle about 4m. behind the handle- 
bar. The sail is made of heavy cotton 
cloth, and is under the control of the rider 
by means of a 
cord which passes 
along the boom 
at the bottom of 
the mast to the 
handle - bar, and 
can be kept in 
check without 
interfering with 
the steering of 
the wheel. Mr. 
Hudson assures 
us that it is a 
very enjoyable 
sport on a breezy 
or windy day, and 
recommends it to 
wheelmen M who 

are fond of excitement with just a dash 
of danger." 

Passing on to the more fascinating sub- 
ject of costly bicycles, it may come as a 
surprise to many to learn that occasionally 
cycles have been manufactured which 
have been nothing else than a blaze of 
gold and silver and precious stones. One 
instance which we may mention is that 
of a lady's ordinary diamond dropped- 
frarne bicycle richly and profusely decor- 
ated in silver, the ornamentations suggest- 
ing the rococo and Louis XV. styles. 
The handles are of carved and stained 
ivory, decorated with silver and jade knobs 
at the ends. The wheel is equipped with 
silver brake, solid silver cyclometer and 
silver bell, while the saddle and tool- 
bag are also ornamented with this metal 
Perhaps the most beautiful accessory 
of the wheel is the solid silver lamp 
attached to the handle-bar. It is made 
after the most approved fashion, with 
a high -power reflector* and ruby and 
emerald coloured cut crystal side-lights, The 
mudguard is nickel plated, ornamented with 
silver and strung with the finest silk t while 
the whole frame of the machine is most 
lavishly decorated with specimens of the 
jeweller's art. This bicycle was exhibited in 
the windows of Messrs. Tiffany and Co +1 well- 
known New York jewellers, and is a specimen 
of their work. The machine, however, was 
not on view very long, for it was purchased 
the first day it was put on exhibition, and, 
strange" to say, by a titled gentleman of this 

The most costly bicycle ever manufactured, 
however, was a tandem cycle built by the 
Elgin Cycle Co,, of which a photograph is 

Frwn a] 



by GoOglc 

Original from 



here reproduced. This one machine repre- 
sents a small fortune, having cost ,£2,000 
to build. When it is stated that 2,ooodwts., 
or 8^lb., of fine gold, and 176 genuine 
diamonds, ranging in size from one to eight 
carats each, several hundred rubies, pearls, 
emeralds, and other precious stones are 
mounted in conspicuous places on the frame, 
one begins to see where its value comes in. 
To photograph a machine of this kind with a 
view to displaying its costly ornamentations 
is somewhat difficult, but a glance at our 
illustration, which is from a photograph in 
colours, will give a fair idea of the numerous 
massive gold bands which decorate various 
parts of the frame. These bands are of solid 
gold and beautifully chased. Several of the 
most popular outdoor sports are prominently 
portrayed carved in solid gold. On the top 
bar we may notice a bicycle race-track, show- 
ing several riders finishing a race in front of 
a well- filled grand stand. On the lower rear 
fork a boating scene may be detected, while 
other racing scenes iire depicted on other 
parts of the machine. The front fork 
deserves special comment. The decora- 
tions are marvellous creations of the gold- 
smith's art, consisting of floral wreaths, 
each leaf and flower carved and coloured 
true to Nature out of solid gold, The sides 
are finished with two massive gold bands, 
mounted with twenty-five diamonds, forming 
a cluster for two diamonds weighing 8cts + 
each. The Elgin King Crown, which is set 
with many beautiful gems, is noticeable, 
while the name " Elgin King " on the drop- bar 
immediately above may also be discerned- 
The name is made out of heavy gold letters, 
the entire design serving as a setting for a 
large number of precious stones. The 
tandem is rideable, and the whole idea of 
loading the machine with such costly gems 
was purely a device for advertising. A worm 
gear takes the place of the front tandem 
chain, and the steering is under the control 

of the rear rider, but, of course, we can hardly 
imagine such a machine on the road. 

Another beautifully decorated bicycle so 
far as costly ornamentation is concerned 
is the *' Rambler," which was made by the 
Messrs. Gormully and Jeffery Manufactur- 
ing Company, It was built at a cost of 
^200. All the enamelled parts of this 
machine are embellished with silver em- 
bossing in the most artistic fashion. The 
handle-bars, pedals, cranks, sprockets, and 
hubs are all silver-plated The brake is 
covered with gold The spoke nipples also 
are of gold, and glisten through rims 
of highly polished mahogany. Reference 
may also lie made to the saddle, which 
is of highly .polished leather, hand-carved 
in fanciful designs w r ith gold mountings* 
The handles are of solid ivory, turned in 
neat spiral design, and are tipped with 
jewelled gold ends. The head is crowned 
with a circlet of pearls, surrounding an 
immense amethyst, while in every handle-tip 
are set similar specimens of the violet-blue 
gem. Turquoise gems may be found set at 
the end of either rear fork diagonal tube, 
and also in the head. 

In concluding this article on quaint and 
curious bicycles we may allude to the 
tiniest of them all, a most interesting 
mechanical curio, constructed by Joseph 
Figarotta, This diminutive wheel weighs 
hut two ounces, but is none the less perfect 
in all its parts ; and, what is more, is in per- 
fect running order. No part or appurtenance 
of the completely equipped wheel is lacking. 
A dainty lamp, with microscopic coloured 
lens, rests on its accustomed bracket Al- 
though so small the wheels are fitted with 
pneumatic tyres, and it is in every respect an 
up-to-date machine. The height of the frame 
is but ^in., wheel base ij^in., diameter of 
wheel xiit The building of this liliputian 
wheel occupied its owner most of his spare 
time for two years. 

From a I'hntoarQph, 

VoL xviii + - 

by Google 

Original from 

.#^ Z3$ 


Bv j. H. Whitfield. 

K were a merry party in spite 
of the weather and the scenery. 
Five of us, three ship-con- 
structors, one engineer, and 
one pressman, standing on the 
edge of the unfinished Orient 
Dock ; a vast expanse of quiet, muddy water 
before us, a lowering grey sky above us, and 
round us the flat shores of Kent and Essex* 
Near us, but aloof, were a few boatmen, 
labourers, hands connected with the slow 
making of this immense basin. We were 
there to test and to criticise the new sub- 
marine boat. Watch Helmut designed and 
invented partly by Mackey, the engineer, 
principally by Boulger. 

Who that ever knew Boulger could forget 
him? Who that knew his history could 
forget it? Shipwright at Portsmouth Dock- 
yard, working his way upward until he 
held a good position at the Admiralty and 
had a hand in shaping all new fashions for 
ironclads, he was yet the good friend of all 
his old mates. I remember his good nature 
most of all. In his house at Clapham he 
kept four unmarried daughters, one son-in- 
law and wife, one widowed daughter, and a 
swarm of grand-children. He loved them all, 
excepting the son-in-law, <?aid never grumbled 

by Google 

at anvone but the persons who softened his 
"g" and called him "Bouljer. ?J 

Standing on the ragged edge of the dock, 
we were smiling because Boulger was too fat 
to get through the emergency door at the 
after-end of ' the cigar-shaped craft below us. 
We were disposed to good humour, for we 
considered this little trip merely as a registra- 
tion of success. She had done well at a 
deep-sea trial : so well that the highest ones 
of the Admiralty had begun to show a faint 
interest in her. Another trial in Sea Reach, 
after certain improvements had been added, 
was not quite so successful ; but this, now, 
was to put everything right. So, sniffing at 
success, we were merry, all but Bawke, under- 
manager of the (inn which was backing 
Boulger with the necessary few thousands. 
Bawke and the inventors had a difference of 
opinion about the removal of certain ballast. 
Bawke mistrusted the crafL, and said so 
frequently ; while, English-fashion, he was 
doing his very skilful best to render failure 

He said something again which caused 
Mackey to ask: "Do you think the motor 
will give out, then ? '* looking up from the 
large hatch which had been slid on one side 
to admit Boulger. 

Original from 



" No," answered Bawke, " I still think the 
danger is in the slanting descent and ascent. 
She'll drown all hands some day — your 
magnified Whitehead." 
• "Come and try," said Boulger, as he 
lowered his body into that of the craft. 

"Unless you're afraid," growled irritable 

This w r ord settled it, and Bawke descended, 
asking, not from fear but from his critical 
habit, " What's to keep this thing from turning 

" Mr. Boulger will oblige by sitting in the 
bottom of her," said O'Neill, of the Current 
News, who was the fifth of us and who had 
already embarked. " Come, hurry up." 

Bawke hurried down and I followed. So 
there were five on board. O'Neill had been 
invited because it was time people heard of 
the Watch Belau^ which was better covered 
by patents than by any veil of secrecy. 

Mackey closed and fastened the hatch and 
the emergency hole, gave us more light from 
the glow-lamps, and opened the air reservoir. 

Our compartment had a space of 8ft. 
between floor and ceiling. These were mere 
Battenings of the hull's circular shape. 
Arrangements for comfort were roughs and 
consisted principally of ropes led along each 
side of the hold. These were for support 
when the craft tilted. There was nothing 
loose on board when the crew were clinging 
to these ropes, only necessary gear being 
carried, all fixed or fixable, in order to 
prevent it slipping about. 

Abaft of our position was the sinking and 
rising gear, consisting of hollow cylinders, 
which could be thrust out or withdrawn in 
order to increase or diminish buoyancy. 
Forward of us were the engines, and forward 
of these again were arrangements similar to 
those right aft. The chief points about the 
invention were the electric engines, the air 
supply, the ease with which either end could 
be depressed, so that she plunged to the 
depth at which it was required to travel, and 
then could be brought head or stern first to 
the surface at an easy angle. 

But the pride of Mackey's heart was the 
"look-out man," as he called his own par- 
ticular invention. This was a telescopic 
tube topped by a cowl, which could be easily 
adjusted to the necessary height, being well 
braced by stays always taut, no matter 
whether high or low. Fitted vertically to 
the front of the cowl was a lens, which threw 
a view of the picture before it upon a slant- 
ing mirror, whence it was conveyed to and 
reflected from the surface of a second mirror, 

by Google 

whereon the steersman might read his course. 
The lens was protected by plate-glass of 
such extraordinary hardness and polish that 
spray dashing upon it left it at once 
undimmed. The angle of the lens was so 
wide that one- third of the surroundings up 
to a certain height was received, and by 
tilting the cowl its vertical range was in- 
creased, giving a serviceable, if somewhat 
distorted, view of objects far above the 

We started ; the deck beneath us sloped 
to a comfortable angle, then became level. 

" We are 10ft. down," said Boulger, look- 
ing at his indicator. Portholes at the 
side showed, through thick glass, water like 
pea-soup ; we went slowly ahead, and the 
pea-soup foamed past us. 

" Up goes the look-out man," said Mackey, 
and a view of the land and water above 
came down the tube, and a picture spread 
itself like that of a camera-obscura upon the 
lower mirror. 

Breathing was not easy, as Mackey kept 
the air-pressure high, which was quite neces- 
sary. The engines ticked away merrily. 

We went once round the dock arxl back 
to our starting-place, where those who had 
been watching the progress of our look-out 
tube just above the surface of the water gave 
us a signal shriek from a steam-crane 
whistle. This we heard distinctly and under- 
stood, and answered " All's well ! " by means 
of specially-emitted air-bubbles. 

Then again we travelled to the other end 
of the dock, which was only'a sloping mud- 
bank, faced by a row of huge wooden piles 
at irregular distances from each other, feeling 
our way cautiously, knowing easily and 
exactly our position both as to depth and 
in relation to the dock sides. We fired a 
dummy wooden torpedo here. For some 
reason or other, as we slowly rose and pro- 
ceeded towards our goal, we came into smart 
collision with the stone edge of the dock, 
just at the place where we should disembark. 

Boulger was steering, and said to Mackey, 
who was about to slide back the main hatch, 
" No — stop — we. must come home neater 
than that. Off we go again — sink her to 
1 oft., and finish in first-rate style." 

We plunged. Mackey seemed to go for 
his little starting-lever rather testily, I thought, 
and I noticed at the same time that Bawke 
stiffened himself and gripped the life-line 
tightly. W 7 e were going at a higher speed 
although at a lesser angle than before. 
Suddenly, without warning, the deck listed 
and slid from beneath us. Clinging to our 




ropes, we were all turning 
somersaults. She rolled 
violently, but seemed 
about to right herself, 
when we felt a shudder- 
ing, sliding sort of shock 
— not severe, but enough 
to incline our tossed 
bodies somewhat forward, 
and then we were all look- 
ing at each other, all on 
the ceiling of the hold, 
the engines hanging up- 
side down ticking away 
merrily, lights good, no 
water coming up the in- 
verted look - out tube, 
which way artfully con 
strutted and came 
home automatically ; 
everything working 

M YouVe done it, 
Mackey," gasped 

"Aye, but 1*11 undo 
it," shouted Mackey, 
who was sitting under 
the engines with his 
back against the side 
and with both hands 
grasping his left leg, 
and shake her up. 




'■ Aft, lads, all of you, 
She's run her snout 
between the piles into the soft mud at the 
dock end/' 

Although shaken ourselves we were un- 
hurt and able to rush aft, except Mackey, who 
dragged himself into a position whence he 
could control his engines. 

We jumped and we shook her up, and 
Mackey gave the engines all they would take, 
as we could tell by the vibration and swirling 
of the useless propellors outside. In vain- 
she was fixed. And we were sealed up in a 
cigar-shaped box 15 ft below the surface of 
the Orient Dock, with a limited supply of air ! 

It is useless to describe all the attempts we 
made. She was fixed. Mackey stopped his 
engines and lowered himself down, where he 
sat on what was now our floor. He was 
ghastly* Sweat stood out upon him. 

ISoulgcr crouched, wirh his face ivsting in 
his hands, complaining that he felt sick and 
giddy ; Bawke bit at his moustache and 
muttered, "What a fool I was to get in this 
mess." O'Neill squatted and wrote rapidly. 

After a few minutes' panting we looked at 
each other again, all but Boulger. I went 
across to him and, as his grateful subordinate. 

by Google 

touched him on the shoulder and said, li Look 
up, sir ; we shall get out of this." He shook 
his bowed head and did not look up. 

" Some of us are here till we're handed out 
stiff. That's certain ! " predicted Mackey, 
" I can't think what made her twist. 11 

"Those infernal triple propellers," e\^ 
claimed Bawke. " She was hound to go over 
sooner or later. If we could get her stem 
clear of the mud you might, by reversing the 
engines, right her again." 

" Especially as she's not bang over," said 

Mackey. " She's got a list to — to 

Hanged if 1 know which is port and which 
is starboard now. Anyway, she would have 
righted herself if she hadn't got jammed 

" If that ballast " said Bawke. 

" Ballast I Ballast ! J5 shouted Mackey, 
drawing his right knee up close to his chin, 
while his left leg was stretched straight out 
before him. * I tell you, man, you're gone 
mad on ballast. YouVe a croaker \ you're 
the Jonah of this voyage." 

" 111 personify Jonal% if you'll kindly find 
some way of throwing me overboard," re- 
marked O Neill. " Or a torpedo : you might 
fire me through the tube. r 

Original from 



Boulger looked around him in a dazed sort 
of way. Mackey's voice had aroused him. 
" Let's try her again, lads/ 5 he said. 

"Shake her again, boys," cried Mackey, 
dragging himself up to his levers. 

So we tried again, and we shook her again 
until we were exhausted. She was fixed* 

" Power's giving out," said Mackey, referring 
to his storage batteries. He sank back to 
his former position. 

" Pm done/' moaned Boulger, dropping 

"There's a chance for one, perhaps two, of 
you," said Mackey. 

A chance ? Of course — the emergency 
door at our feet. This was merely a hinged 
iron plate, fastened from inside with a water- 
tight joint, but opening outwards. 

"The hatch is jammed, and, besides, it's 
too big to open. But one of you ought to 
get through that manhole door before the 
rush of water comes/' said Mackey, "especi- 
ally as it's below instead of above. One 
ought to get through ; two may / but it's a 
dog's chance for the third," 

"We must go odd-man for it/' said O'Neill. 
"If we all bolt at once nobody will get 

"And make haste, because of my air 
cylinders," remarked Mackey, 

We stooped around Mackey and spun 
coins— I acting for Boulger, who would pay 
no heed. I won the toss for Boulger, and it 


by Google 

was with a sickly sort of joy that I recog- 
nised his chance as being worth nothing. 

Then Mackey won. Again that horrid 
thrill of satisfaction when Mackey said in low 
tones : " I tossed only for the form of the 
thing. My leg is broken— and — besides — 

the craft is a failure — and — and w 

And he sank back, his face that of a man 
who is suffering much and expecting to 
suffer more. Again we hazarded. The game 
was mine ; Bawke came next. 

" Strip yourself, Jemmy," muttered Mackey 
he had always called me " Mister" before. 
" Strip yourself and keep your arms well 
above your head. You're young and wiry, 
and ought to get through. The door only 
opens a foot or so. There's about a balance 
now between our air and the water, that'll 
let the door fall down - then the waterll rush 
in and bang the door to then the next 
man s ehance'U come." 

" Here 3 take these and tuck them in some- 
where/' said O'Neill, handing me a sheaf of 
the notes he had hastily scribbled for the 
Current News, " They ought to make 
some noise ; 'tisn't often that a dead man 
speaks to the public.'' 

"Any message, sir/' I asked Boulger. 
No answer. He kept his face covered as 
he bent his body downward. 

Bawke was leaning, arms folded, eyes fixed 

on the ceiling beneath him. He whispered, 

" I shall follow you. I can't die. I shan't die!" 

O'Neill was on his knees, his eyes closed, 

his hands clasped. 

Mackey said in a very low tone, without 
looking up at me : " You know my lodgings, 
you can get my wife's address there -she's at 
Leith, I've led her somewhat of a 
dance in my time, but we parted 
friends, and I leave her no bairns 
to bother her/' 

As I threw off all rhuhes Inn 
those next to my skin, a series of 
thoughts coursed through my brain. 
Should I give way ? Boulger was 
doomed - Mackey was doomed. 
Should I give way to Bawke Bawke 
with his keen intellect, with that eye 
which sees far below the sur- 
face of any base metal worked 
by civilized man ? Should 
Bawke go first ? 

Or O'Neill- friendly ONeill 
-careless in everything but 
his work, open-handed, open- 
minded? I thought of the 
glee with which he had told 
that when he left us he was 
Original from 



going to meet the great Galloper, most success- 
ful of special correspondents who was just 
home red-hot from a battle-field, covered with 
Press laurels. Should O'Neill have a chance ? 

But myself, I thought of my mother in 
that southern seaport — mother, to whom my 
promotion brought no joy because it meant 
separation* A picture stopped before me I 
saw her and my sister in the little house, 
waiting for the chief pleasure of their life, 
my weekly letter, and receiving, instead, the 
news of my awful death. And pity for them 
quickened the instinct of self-preservation 
within me. 

These men were bachelors like myself- 
their claims for life 
were no more than 
mine, and I had won 
the toss. The me- 
chanical action of 
tearing off my clothes 
had allowed all this 
thinking in the 
minute consumed by 
it But now I was to 
make my attempt, 

I took off the 
clamps which 
fastened the door. It 
did not fall, although 
a little water oozed 
in through the joint. 
So I stood on it, my 
arms straight above 
me. Bawke rushed 
towards me as if he 
would dispute' my 
right, and I was ready 
for his attack, 1 
could have killed him 
or whomsoever in- 
terfered with me at 
that time. However, 
he stopped, knelt, 
find made ready to 
follow my plunge. He evidently thought the 
door would not close again, and meant to 
endeavour to force h in] self head first through 
the rising mass of water. 

Thinking all this, and much more, as I 
stood there with my hands touching the floor 
over my head, my finger-tips playing with 
particle of ^rit in the planking. I could 
partly realize some of the sensations of a 
felon as he feels the gallows-trap giving way 
under his feet. Suddenly the heavy cover 
swung downwards and I slid out. I was 
conscious of struggling, of abrasion, of semi- 
suffocation. Then I was free amongst some 

by Google 

effervescing liquid, and I felt myself fumbling 
around the hull of our prison. Then a 
rapid ascent into growing light — a rough hug 
from strong hands - and I was hauled into 
one of the boats even then searching for us. 
I looked around, water in my eyes, many 
questions in my ears. Big bubbles showed 
there was strife between air and water below, 
but Bawke did not appear. It was evident 
that the rush of water had closed the door, 
and thut the air-pressure was insufficient to 
allow of its being opened a second time. 

The foreman in charge of that pan of the 
dock said, after a few hurried words of 
explanation and wonderment had passed : 

" I expect' she's got 
nipped between them 
two piles there. They 
seemed to be forced 
apart ; the one on the 
left has only been 
driven in a few feet." 
u Then it can be 
shifted easily," I 

I took in a great 
gasp of air, the value 
of which, boundless 
around me, I had 
never estimated ; and 
as I thought of those 
below with it doled 
out to them, price- 
less, I felt equal to 
any effort. Hurrah ! 
Those giant logs 
should be drawn 
further a[Xirt, and the 
Watch Behnu should 
be released. " We 
must heave that 
highest pile over. To 
it, -my men ! Fore- 
man, you must have 
blocks and tackle in 
your shed yonder. We'll have 'em up." 

We all scrambled ashore and rushed to the 
shed, where we found the gear we required. 
Speedily the tackle was stretched from the 
top of the pile, which stood high above its 
neighbour) to a fixed log on shore, giving us 
a straight lead for pulling the pile over in 
the best direction. 

" Now, yeave-ho, m 1 lads, pull like men 
and not like women. Yeave-ho, break the 
rope. That shakes her. Heave away, 
m* lads ; show 'em what you can do. Pull 
away, m ] hearties.' 1 

We were all on the rope, digging our heels 

Original from 





into the soft earth a tug-of-war with men's 
lives as the prize. Slowly, slowly, the timber 
yielded and ojjened like the jaw of some 
monster unwilling to give up its prey. But, 
as it came over more and more, the resist- 
ance was greater. 

t( Pull, m' lads, pull, give her fits ; now- 
then, all together. I wish I had our crane 
here," gaspetl the foreman, who was working 
like two men ; " here are the rails, and it 
could be run along, but steam's not up." 

** Pull, lads, pull. Grim death is against 
us ; tug away, we'll beat him yet. Now — a 
supreme effort ! " 

Merciful Heaven, is she coming ? She is ! 
A foaming, a shout from the foreman to the 
men in the boats : " Back your oars, there," 
a swirling of propellers, and her stem 

He answered, hesitatingly: "Yes; shipped 
a lot of w T ater," and disappeared as if pulled 
away from below, 

O'Neill then put out his head, and said, in 
his usual tones ; " Faith, my boy, this is a 
narrow squeak. Have you got those notes 
safe ? " 

" Boulger — Mackey ! " I ejaculated. "How 
are they ? " 

"Boulger's silly and Mackey's insensible, 
but otherwise I believe they're all well, 
barring Mackey's leg, Shall I come out this 

n No, no ; well get the main hatch open/' 
I answered. 

This was done, and Mackey was handed 
out as he had predicted, but very limp, 
Boulger was still dazed, and I led him away, 


appeared. Rolling violently, she was float- 
ing at an angle, but righted, the emergency 
door well out of the water, the main hatch 
just clear, the look-out cowl all snug and 

I jumped into a boat, which was rowed to 
her when the rolling had diminished and her 
engines had stopped. To my perfect joy the 
door was pushed open, and I saw Bawke, 
who looked at me, but said nothing. 

" Is all well ? * I demanded 

after regaining and donning my soddened 

Boulger recovered and Mackey recovered, 
but the Waich Bef<nv was doomed. Many 
of her patents were sold, however, and few 
submarine boats are now designed without 
owing something to the two inventors. They 
earned about as much as they had spent, and 
so, as O'Neill remarked, " The only good 
turn the Watch Bei<nu did them was when 
she saved their lives." 

by Google 

Original from 

A Peep into "Punch" 

Part VII. -1875 to 1879. 
By J. Holt Schooling, 

[The Proprietors of "Punch " haw given special permission to rep w hue the tafompanying iUusiratiom. This 
is the first occasion when a periodical has keen enahhd io present a se Wf ion from Mr. Punch 1 s famous pages.] 

potent inluence which broke the great 
Gladstone Government of 1868-1874 was, 
probably, "the fact that people in general 
had grown tired of doing great things, and 
had got into the mood of the lady described 
in one of Mr. Charles R cade's novels, who 
frankly declares that heroes are her abomina- 
tion. The English constituencies had grown 
weary of the heroic, and would have a 

Whatever was the cause of Gladstone's fall 

Tmk New Smethskd. — ffartinghw (new hand, /ttit taken 
trnU M Hey* Inn Mcaster \—Whcrt fa tkt Skttp f " 


ITEMS ^ ^ e Tenniel-cartoon, No. r, fohn 


is written (1 Liberal 
cartoon was published 

. ]^ Bright is giving to Lord Harting 
y-± ton (now the I hike of Devonshire) 
Kg* 1 the shepherd's crook, on the staff 
of which 

Leadership." This 

February 13, 

1875, and in 1874 

"the great Liberal 


had fallen as 

suddenly as the 

French Empire ; 

had disappeared 

like Aladdin's 

palace, which was 

erect and ablaze 

with light and 

splendour last 

night, and is not 

to be seen this 

morning," Mr. 

Justin McCarthy 

has also recorded 

that the most 

A PiCTl ie Pi , , 1 E, Truer WmrMtr ( uriik passamatt tmf/utsis tm the 
jirtt IVardi of titth Lin*)* t4 Aft-f-f-p-f-t me once again, Mc-e-e-c-t me 

LHlc:c ;i^;t-:L-.un 

[tilcjtfw tftr Cat rudfrnfy /ttmp up off tk f Hearth tu^ rush ia the 
/Wr. tf ttd make frantic emfem*&urt fa get mti r\ 

J. — l»V lJU MAI RIP K, ¥875. 

( w ki vs& N" k . l j 1. 1-: i : 6 1 j i- - J > u ty. — Stt nttuy MtAmr/ / foC&tK 
" What did your C Godfathers and Godmothers then for you?" 

SttrtiAtjr Sekftjt /?nturr. M Nothing at all. Miss neither then 
nnr since!' \ nu mauhibg, 1875, 

in 1874, his dismissal from power caused him 
to almost withdraw from Parliamentary life 

andfrom the poli- 
tical world. "It 
seemed clear [in 

I875-J* H. S-] 
that Mr. (Mad- 
stone never 
meant to take 
any leading part 
in politics again," 
and he made 
himself busy with 
the writing of 
eon t ro v e r sial 
essays. In these 
the Leadership 
of the much- 
reduced Liberal 
Party in the 

by Google 

Original from 



House of Commons was, on the 
nomination of John Bright, passed 
on to Lord Hartington— hence the 
cartoon in No. i, in which the New 

Jl MrtM; at Conclusions. — Etktl {much impressed}. 
Grumph, d& look ! That must be Adam ! * 

6l— by du -.! w. k:i si. 1S75, 

O, Mm 

"A Paktihan Shaft/ 1 — L\wi\ *' Now I'm a 
Leavin 1 oFyer, M'um, 1 may as well Tell yer as the 
Key o" the K itching- Door ms your Store- Room I " 

4, — BY CHAKLKS KEENE, 1873. 

But the selection of Sir Henry Campbell-Uannerman 
answered //*<?/ question* 

Pictures 2 and 3 are by Du Maurrer; the piece of 
social satire in No. 3 is very amusing, and— thank 
goodness !— we do not now have inflicted upon us at 
social gatherings nearly so much of the amateur sing- 
ing as was pressed upon the group of guests in No, 3, 

Shepherd asks, w Hey, but Measter ! — Where 
be ike Sheep ? " A few months ago, curiously 
enough, the position was reversed, and the 
Liberal sheep were asking, in 1899, "Hey, 
but Measter! — Where be the Shepherd?" 

M Ui>m Voyage! " H — "Good-bye, my dear Hoy! And mind 
you give my luve to India."' 

5, — UV T F.N MEL, 1875* 

Vol. Jtviii.— 5. 


Punch, a Mahtyp.— " l O* I say, I've such a Capital Story 
for you. My little Niece, only Two Years old " 

7.— BV W. H ALSTON, 1875, 

who are momentarily aroused from stifled 
boredom by their appreciation of the cat's 
just act. 

There is a little gem of a Kcene in No, 4. 
Just look at the attitude of the departing 
cook, and at her facial expression. 

Ten in el's picture in No. 5 refers to the 
Prince of Wales's visit to India in 1875, 
No. 6 is by Du Maurier--a fine piece of 
work— and No. 7, by W\ Ralston, shows very 
cleverly Mr, Punch's resignation under a 
trial of his patience. Many of Mr. Punch's 
own stories and jokes have been dished up 






Hajcd of Hearing,— Petite Stranger (in a hurry* think- 
ing he had grazed an O&i Gentleman'} ankle). ** Beg Pardon 1* 
Old Gentleman^ u Ett n 

Petite Stranger (lander). M I beg your Pardon ! ,+ 
Old Gentleman (unconscious ef any hurt). " Why? " 

Pelife Si-ranger. M I'm afraid I kicked you " 

Old Gentleman, "Eh»" 
Polite Stranger (shouting). ,+ 1 kicked you," 
Old Gentleman (surprised \K " WW for T' 
Polite Stranger. * + It was quite by Accident*" 

Old Gentle man (not clicking it). ** Eh? Beg your Fard " 

Petite Stranger {rearing in his ear). il Accident f " 

Old Gentleman {starting}. u Bless my Soul ! Yyu don't say 

*o \ Where ? Where ? I hop* nobody * killed " 

( Polite Stranger rushes oJT 3 and lasts ki* Train /] 

& — BY CHAKLKS KEENE, 1875. 

over and over again in other papers, and on 
this score a New York correspondent writes 
to me : " Permit me to say that your Punch 
articles are accomplishing a great work in 
exposing a class of comic artists here who 
have prospered on their filchings from for- 
gotten back numbers of that estimable paper." 

Arms for the proposed new West- End Stock Exchange. {To 
he Honed wer the flrincijpal Entrance. ) On a chevron frfrf, a 
Pi econ plucked f>rwf>er t between three Ronks peckant, dawed 
and beaked gules. Crest: a Head Semitic grin nam, wink -mi, 
ahove two pipes laid sal tier wise, nrgexi, environed with a halo 
of Hubblrs er. Supporters: a Bull and Bear rampant tabic t 
dented, hoofed and clawed £ttie* r Motto: u Let us prey/' 

0. — nv L1M-5Y SAMWOUKU^ 1&75- 

No, 8 is another splendidly clever Keene- 
drawing. In No. 9 there is a smart eoat- 
of-arms and motto for the proposed new 

Oh I Horror \— Tommy t suddenly— en his ivay home ft em 
Church). " What did yen take out of the Bag ( Mamma ] / 
only sot Sixpence I Look here ! " 

IO. — BY 1>U MAURIER, iS?6 + 

West-end Stock Exchange. The motto, " Let 
us prey," is very happily chosen. The tempt- 
ingly-worded advertisements of the " outside " 



■" Niiw Chuwss h>k Ou> Ones V (Aladdin adapted,) 

U.—Blf TENMEL, ifljS. 

stockbrokers, with which we are so familiar, 
ought not to be so successful as they often 
are, if people would only reflect that the 
money spent upon publishing these advertise- 




merits, if invested by the advertising stock- 
broker himsdf in one of his u cover -systems " 
(instead of in advertising), would very soon 
automatically turn into a small fortune — if 
the " co ver- system " and every other system 
of gambling were not, as they are, absolutely 
worthless (except as a base for ingeniously 
plausible traps to catch the public). 

Glancing at No* iq, we see in No* n 
Benjamin Disraeli (as the magician in 
Aladdin who offered "New lamps for old 
ones") offering the Crown of India to the 
Queen in exchange for the Crown of England. 
This cartoon was published April 15, 1876, 
the year in which, on Disraeli's initiative, 


cani .iLaud i 
sort of thing? 


1 can 1 jftUihl it much longer! Who'l to v rule the waves ' in this 

1 Look b^rt, 
lie l 
-BY TmHWIBL, 1876- 


the Queen formally assumed the title of 
Empress of India. In August, 1876, there 
was published another cartoon by Tenniel, 
entitled f 1 Empress and Earl ; or, one good 
turn deserves another,'' Disraeli had just 
been created Earl of Eeaconsfield, and in 
the cartoon {not shown here) the Empress 
is placing an Earl's coronet ©n Beacon sfield's 

The Tenniel-cartoon in No. 12 refers to 
the building of the Inflexible, which was 
protected with very heavy armour-plates. 
The comely figure of Britannia presses 
heavily on her shield : notice how well Sir 
John Tenniel has given to this comely 

Digitized by dOOgR 

Dignity 1 and hn'UDENCK, fA fteminiscttu't &f tk* Great 
Bail at ihe Gmifflmlf.) I ttt/md/nte (fa Dignify). " Ye'd better 
look sharp, my Lord, if yer wants to be in Time for Supper I 
Why, the Tripe-and-Unions is all gone, and so's the Liver-snd- 
Bacon ; and blest if they hain't send in round the Corner For all 
the Fried Fish as they can lay 'old on ! ,H 

IJU — &V l>U MA^HIEHp 1876+ 

female figure the exact pose of being over- 

There is a good drawing by Du Maurier in 
No. 13, and No. 14 is a vivid picture of 
despair by Charles Keene, 

In the important Tenniel-cartoon, No, 15, 
Lord Beaconsfieldj Prime Minister in 1S76, 
is bringing Lord Salisbury to the front in 
foreign affairs. The football is labelled 
Eastern Question, and Lord Eeaconsfield says 
to Sir Henry Elliott, the English Ambassador 
at Constantinople : lt There, stand out of the 
way, Elliott ! — We've got a stronger man ! " 
This was in November, 1876, when there was 
much friction between England and Russia 
on the subject of Turkey. 

Desi'ATK. — Brown has tacked hh P.irt manleau with ntit ^f 
those Lelter P,id ] ck:!;*, , arid forgotten the Word thai Opens it ! 
{Oniy 7>h Minutes tfl Dinner!] 




A b'kifrH "Kick Off/ — Beacor^ntW UxptiunL 
the way, Elliott '—We've got a stronger man 1 " 

15.— BV TENMKL, 1&7& 

There, stand out of 

No. 16 is a very fine bit of characterization by 
Charles Keene. James, the Scots beadle, who is 
strongly suspected of larceny, is a marvellously clever 
representation of deep, imperturbable, crafty guile, as 
he calmly suggests to the horrified minister that the 

* " S PLt TT 1 ISO t 11 k D 1 f FEk 1 . \ \ i. , "— prexhyteriatt .V t'rt t s fr 1 r \ po r t p-w t t>it sfy)- 
" Jame± T this ia a very dreadful Thing! You have lie.ird there is One 
Pound mining from the' Box ! " 

James {the Peatiitt tufut is strongljt susfect&fy *'"I>eed, Sir, so they were 
lellin me " 

Minister (sefemHfy}, " Jame^ ! You and I alone had Access to that 
Eot " 

fames, "Ii's just as ye say, Sir— it must lie between us Twa ! An' the 
tat way 'li be. you to Pay the tae Half, an It! Pay the tithcr, an" say na J 
mair aboot it 1 16.— BY charles fcEENEi 1S76. 

Digitized by GoOglC 

theft i£ must lie between us Twa," 
proposes to pay one half each, " an' 
say na 7 mair a boot it ! ^ The more 
one looks at Charles Keene's work, 
hiring on one's guard not to overlook 
its masterly artistic quality by reason 
of its great ease and naturalness, 
the more one realizes that only a 
supreme artist could have drawn 
these pictures. 

We pity the poor little boy in 
No. 17, and in looking at No, )S 
we observe that the architect's em- 
barrassment is caused by his mis- 
interpretation of the old pew^openers 
innocent remark as to the bad con- 
dition of the pulpit in the church 
which is to be restored. The half- 
startled, half-suspicious glance of the 
clergyman at his trusted pew-opener 

T H K R ou SD of t h e S t c 1 uos. — ^siketic Party 
(to Child &/ the M+wjf J. lt Tell mc, Little Boy*w*i 
it your Father who Painted this exquisite Copy of 
one of f-uca SifnoratHi most exquisite Master- 
pieces? t¥ 

C&iid af the House (in grrtti trt/^datienh 
11 Boo-hoo-oo-oo — 1 want Nursey E" 

17. — UY DU MAURIER, 1877. 

— as the double meaning of her 
remark strikes him also — is another 
of those life-like bits of absolutely 
true expression with which Charles 
Keene's work abounds* Look at 
poor Tarn's face in No. 19 — a per- 
fect expression of disappointment 
and vexation, mixed with half- 
heartedly-hopeless entreaty. 

Glancing at No, 20, we see in 
No. 21 another very fine bit of work 
by Charles Keene. " Wha's catch in 5 
Fesh ? yi retorts the disgusted small 

Sppts boy, who has not had a rise 




drawing of this is very fine, very 
true. The long-suffering master 
appeals to his old servant so simply 
and in such entire good faith as he 
says, "Ah, James! Think how long 
Pve put up with her ! " There is 
not a shadow of a doubt in either 

J *n, An dat ions. — Architect t m ho has trmc d&wn ab&wi tkt " Restora- 
tion '>, " Good dra] of Dry- Rot ahuut here ! " 
trarruiitus Pew-Qfien*r. Si Oh, Sir, it ain't not h ink to what there is Li the 

FuEpilJt" il, — IW CHARLES KEKSE, 1877, 

all the morning, to the ministers reproof, "Don't you 
know it's Wicked to catch Fish on the Saw bath ? " 
There is no exaggeration, no caricature of expression 
in the work of Charles Keene : it is just real bits of life 
truly caught and most wonderfully expressed in line. 
The injured feeling of the boy and his disgust, his full 
intention to reply rudely and shortly to the 
minister who has just touched him on a very 
sore place, are all expressed in the few 
masterly lines that make this boy a real boy, 
and exactly the sort of boy he ought to be in 
the circumstances stated. 

Passing No. 22, by Keene, we come to a 
joke illustrated by I)u Maurier which has 
often been served up afresh since it first 
appeared in Punch, in the year 1877. The 


t\ %*jb-it'& 

Expensive \ — Londoner [to Fritmtjretu tkt Nvrtk} "' Weil, 
haw do you like the Opera fc ftffXliim t * 

Mr. Mac A lister. " No that bad. tiui is't nodreadfu', Mon, 
tc> be sittin' in ih:ie Chairs at Ten Sltilluns apiece \ " 


man's mind as to the fact that the " Missus " 
was a person to be " put up with," and the 
reluctance of the servant to put up with 
his Missus any longer is as plainly shown as 
is the conviction of his master that he at 

ncid, — Tam (vity dry, at dttor tf Ci*u?ttr* I*in t Sunday 
"'*■£>» " Aye, Mori, yc mkht gie tne n bit IJ\\\ oot in a 


Landlord t from within). *' Weel t ye ken, Taming I dauma 
«11 anything the Day. And fbrbyt ye gen a HaLf- Mutch-kin aw* 1 
wi' ye last Nicht {after Hourv tae) ; it canna be a' dime yet I" 

Tam* " Dune \ Losh, Mon, d'ye think a' could Sleep an 1 
WhaOmfT the Moose?!" 

19, — BY CHARLES KEENE* 1B77. 

by Google 

" Not Proa f.n - " — Presbyterian Minister. " punt you know it's Wicked 
to catch Fish on the Sawbath ! 1 " 

Stir ait Uoy (not having had * rise nil the Af&rntmg}. s * Wha'* catch in," 
Fe>h ! 3 " ai. — bv chanlhs kee\k, 1&77* 

any rate is doomed to put up with the 
Missus for the rest of his natural life. You 
see plainly that this poor man will never 
revolt, and that James is weighing his regard 
for his master against his inability to endure 
his mistress any longer. 




Plain to Dfmonsibatkjs. — Custvmtr fm'rivuifj'). bi Ah! 
Thev must be very Irksome at first." 

Dstttjst (txvttantiyl "Not a bit of it. Sir! Look here, 
Sir ] hJ {Dexienmsty catching his entire set.) " Here's my 
Uppers, and here's my Under* £ " 

32. — H\ CKAkt.Li KKENE, l3?7« 

This picture by Du Maurier and many 
more of his earlier pictures do not incur the 
risk of bring pronounced not true to life 
by reason of the artist's great love of 
beautiful faces and forms, a love that in 
some of Du Maurier's later work caused him 
to sacrifice truth of expression to that 
idealization of face and form which is so 
well known a feature of his work — especially 
of his later work. 

The exaggeration in No + 24 is necessary to 
give point to the joke, and passing No. 25 
we come to an impressive Ten me I -cartoon, 

iS A Fellow *Fvsu kg Makks us Wondkuvs Kin-d,"— 
11 What I Going to Leave u*< Jam^s f " 

11 Yes, Sir, I'm very sorry, Sir* but I really can't put up with 
M i^-.u- aoy longer !" 

" Ah T James \ Think how king Fwt put up with her ! M 
aj. — uv du WALktek, 1877. 

A Discussion on Character.™ " I believe that Character 
I its in the Nose. ' Give me plenty of nose '— as Napoleon 
said ' " 

M No?*? Nose ha Slowed ! Character lies in the Chin and 
Lower Jaw ! " 

24 + — BY PU MAVKJKN, 1E77. 

No. 26, that takes us back to the foreign 
affairs of twenty years ago, when we were on 
the hrink of war with Russia, This was 
published January 19, 1878; Lord Beacons- 
field was in power, his will was supreme in 
the Cabinet, and it was feared that he would 
lead the country into war over the Eastern 
Question already referred to in cartoon 
No. 15. 

But now, in 1878, the crisis was more 
severe. The Russians had beaten the Turks, 
and their victorious armies were almost within 
sight of Stam bouL The road to Constanti- 

1ALKIEK, 1877. 

by Google 

The Last Sell.—' "Oh, Sir, please Sir, is this Chancery l-ane? 1 

^ It is," 

11 Ah ! I knoweil it was !" 

11 Then why did you ask?" 

** 'Cos I wanted to have Counsel's opinion J " 

ri#rrarffc1 i iV ;,,,FK - ,8?e - 



nople was clear, and we did not mean to let 
Russia have Turkey, Parliament met before 
the usual time, the Queen's Speech announced 
that " some Unexpected occurrence may 
render it incumbent on me to adopt measures 
of precaution," there was, says Mr. Justin 
McCarthy, t£ a very large and very noisy war 

On the Djzzv BhCNK.— Lord &. 'just a Leetle nearer the 

Bfitammb. "Not an inch further, Tm a good deal nearer 
than is pleasant already 1 " 

a6.— BV TENNIEL, 1S78. 

party already in existence. It was particularly 
strong in London," The events which gave 
rise to this cartoon, No. 26, also gave rise to 
the famous jingo Party — the party who were 
in favour of war. Then arose the music-hall 
war-song so familiar to many of us now, that 
we are startled to think that more than 

An Eyk to Business* — Shifrvreckai Party fwttf ttes his 
tm t& sutety M A Sketch on the Sfat " U the Ittmtratvd 
Pmferw). * Beg pardon, but do yon happen to have such a 
Thing as a piece of India Rubber ! ? " 

47.— BY CHARLES KE£f,E h jfljB. 

Pauca Vena a,— Rt*hj*&ert (after a Un# IVhist^Bout at ike 
Ciuf>). "■ It's awfully, Brown, What will you say to your 
Wife?" ' 

Brvum fin a ivhiipery. " Ob,, I shan't say much, you know— 
'Good Morning, Dear,' or something o" that sorL She'll Say 

the Kcsl I ! I" 48- —BY CHARLES KEENE, 1B7B. 

twenty years have passed since we first 

heard it roared out : — 

We don' l want to fight, bul, by Jingo, if we do, 
VWve got the ships, we've got the men, we've got 
the money, too. 

In March, 1878, I^ord Derby resigned the 
office of Foreign Secretary, war seemed more 
certain than ever, and then, for the first time* 
Lord Salisbury was made Minister of P'oreign 
Affairs — in the place of Lord Derby. 

by Google 

Nicw ]i>£a for a Fancy Ball. —Shave your Head, and go 
as a Phrenological Bust. 

30.— BV UU MAURfER, iS?©. 

Soon after this, Lord Beaconsfield and 
Lord Salisbury attended the famous Congress 
of Berlin, there to represent England in 
settling the terms of peace in Europe, which 
should disperse the war-clouds hanging ovci 
Original from 



this country, 
The result of 
that memorable 
journey to Berlin 
was the historic 
"Peace with 
Honour," words 
that will always 
he linked with 
the name of 
which were first 
spoken by him- 
self when, from 
a window of the 
Foreign Office, 
Beaconsfield an- 
nounced to the 
excited crowd that he had returned from 
Berlin bringing " Peace with Honour" 

Passing Nos. 27, 28, and 29, in No. 30 we 
have a picture by Charles Keene which has 
interest quite apart from its intrinsic value. 
The man sits there in his room, window wide 
open, and shows in his face that he knows 
the victory is with him and his bag-pipes, not 
with the quite discomfited German band 

Put to the. RuVT.—Distractr-tf Bmmdiier. il Koithh av*v— Vomra avi 
« itaall nod give y*w nodinfsh ee vill Way tic Moorcek enclbet ! Teufe 

3ft — by l j i a k 1. I : s k L k n i£ t 1 8 7 B. [ They ret teat hastily. I 

outside, who are 
already beginning 
their retreat from 
the man who will 
play the music 
himself* The ex- 
trinsic interest of 
this picture by 
Keene is that 
Keene himself 
was a gr^at lover 
of the bag-pipes, 
and made a very 
large and varied 
collection of 
them — we may 
be sure that the 
pipes seen in 
No, 30 were drawn from the life out of his 
own collection* 

The next cartoon— No 31 — is, I think, the 
best of those now shown. It is by Tenniel, 
and is surely a marvellously clever drawing. 
Not only is the differentiation of the charac- 
ters in the cartoon most definitely conceived 
and expressed, but the picture looked at as a 
whole strikes the imagination very vividly. 
Here are Mr. Gladstone and Lord 
Beaconsfield, caught by Dr, Punch 
in the act of flinging mud at each 
other, and " the two head boys of the 


Hi x4 \ 


H ' A 

, wx*m. 

Pbifc£j^ 1 

p ■ 

jwm? 1 

A Hau Example.— Dr. Punch* "Wbaf'i nit \\\\<t You. i he two head 
boy* of the school, throwing mud \ You ought t& be ashamed o; yvnr* 
semes!'* \i.— by tknnieu, 1878. 

by Google 

"Kk t< 1 r 1 Coti rt bou s, 1 Y —F*ceti#m Old Gent 
{iff Pauemfftr with a Saw)* "Vou show yoor 
Teeth, Sir," (CtaoMta) 

Crusty Car fenitr* " You don't. 'Cause why I 
— V ain't fiot none 1 "' 

3?,— BY CNARLB3 KtEStt, 1&78. 

school 3 ' don't know where to look, 
The half hang -dog expression of 
BeaconsfieUTs face and figure are 
irresistibly funny, and Gladstone 
looks so grimly in earnest, although 

Original from 



At THK Hkaij ok the rkoKra&ioK.— Seetie.— Prisoners 
Waiting- Rwm adjoining Poike. Court, (fCmi»firtJy res^eci- 
abfe Director awaiting Examination. ) 

Artful Dodgtr (to Ckariey Hates). *■ You've been, copped Tor 
a Till-- ^and me for a Cty. Bur Vs been copped for a Bank — 
shared sometliin' like six million swag amonj rbc lot I " 

Chttviry Kates fin a ton* of rttptctfut admiration)* '* Ix>r I " 
33.— ISV CHAKLKS KEEFE, 1878* 

not without a resentful shame at being caught, 
and a sullen resolve to be at it again when 
Dr, Punch and his cane have gone away. 

This cartoon was published August to, 
18785 at the time when the great popularity 
of Beaconsfield's Administration of 1874- 
1880 (at its climax after the Berlin Treaty of 
1878) was just on the turn of the flowing 
tide of success. Mr. Pamell, then a young 
man, was beginning to harass and discredit 

the Government, which was also being cen- 
sured by the Liberals in respect of foreign 
affairs, and Mr. Gladstone and Lord Beacons- 
field had become "unparliamentary" in 
their "personal shies" of abuse and recrimi- 

The stolid hluffness of the crusty carpenter 
in No* 32 is very good. Keene's cartoon in 
No- $Z (published November 2, 1878) refers 
to the suspension of the City of Glasgow 
Bank on October i, 1878, with liabilities 
estimated at ^"13,000,000, followed by heavy 
failures in the mercantile world. Some of 
the directors of the bank were arrested, tried 
for fraud, and convicted, and it is at one of 

"A Pleasant PtomrECT."^ Car- Drr&tr (U iVrtv Agtnt). 
ihe w-ondher is he wasn't Shot long before— but, shun;, they 
litrfbody'l Business is Nobody's Business ! " 

34. — DV CHARLES KBfiNE, 1670. 
Vfll xvilL-6. 

by Google 

PANRiKi>.--/iitW/c>Mf Parson (to Parish ioner t who it met 
btHwtd to he a rigid A&stountr). "All, Mr. Brown! Tools 
stand in slippery places* I've heard ! Il 

Afr, Brmm {thr footpath -vas in a frightful state}. ,l So I 

set-. Sir ; but I'm blest if I can ! " 

35. — liV CHAfti E& KEENK, 1S79. 

them, who is awaiting the preliminary magis- 
terial examination, that the Artful Dodger 
and Charley Bates (from Dickens's 
u Oliver Twist") gaze with respectful 
admiration, as being a man who is 
at the tip-top of their own profession 
of thieving and swindling 

No. 34, by Charles Kcene, pub- 
lished in 1879, illustrates the then 
deplorable state of affairs in Ireland 
which in May, 1882, caused the 
terrible murder of Lord Frederick 
Cavendish and Mr. Burke in Phoenix 
Park, Dublin. 

There is a very famous joke in 
No* 35, one that has become a classic 
since it was published by Putu-h 
twenty years ago* 

The next Keene-picture, No. 36, 
has in it nothing to attract admiration 

Original from 

" Be^orra, 
say, what's 




if we look for " prettiness*" Two 
nasty little vulgar girls have been 
quarrelling, and the bigger girl 
viciously says to the other, " Yer 

■■ iMtkKb A Divtkitv Duth Hsoce," trc- — 
fvvwiU^Ssmid" " Yer nasty little Thing ! If 
yer father wasn't a P'Ucemnn, I'd snack yer ! " 
3*"i. — nv t:nAHi_i-:s; keemi^ 1B79- 

LhAKirv Hkgins At Hohl-- Jemmy, " What bcasily Waste ! K 

36, BV [JU MAUHIEK, 1 8 79. 

1,000 men. We had fallen into the old pitfall 
of despising the enemy, just as a hundred years 
before the massacre at Isandhlwana we regarded 
the American War of Independence as a mere 
rebellion in our colonies, and sent out ha If -a -dozen 
ships to stop the rebellion which, on the 4th July, 
1776, resuked in the famous Declaration of Inde- 

nasty little Thing ! If yer Father wasn't a 
Piicerrtan, I'd smack yer ! " 

There is an historic Tenniel -cartoon in No, 
37. It was published March 1, 1879, nfter 
the horrible blunder at Isandhlwara. on 
January 22, 1879, when the Zulus simply 
wiped out one of our columns of about 

a lks^o^. 

j 7 ,— »V TESSIEL, 1879- 

by Google 

Tut t.t%TLE Ckaftxjim Qy-inneMt An^Ur ,■,„),„ hasn't 

rti,W- ***■&»• , *}!"• '■ " Viewing kU fly.took into 
tht ttrtmM, OHlA « mtlaUetu*)-" Take y >Sr Choiic " " 
39-— «V CHAkLKE KfcENR, 'iB 7 ^ 

pendence of the United States of America 
But John Bull is able to learn a lesson 
from disaster. In 1879, Sir John Tenniel 
squatted him down on the stool we see in 
the cartoon, and set a Zulu t0 write flw 
lesson on the slate-quite plain. John Bull 
sat still, looked on-and learnt his lesson. 




all he has left to say. He has long since 
exhausted his stock of curses — you can 
see that, clearly, by looking at the man's 

Observe the grave-digger's face in No. 40, 
and see how it exactly agrees with the reply 
he is making to the village doctor. Don't 
look only at the jokes, for good as these 
often are (this one, for example), they 

** Live XhtJ Let Liv*,*— ritlage I lector [U ihe Crar/e- 
Dtx££r t ivkajt gtZ'itt U Whiskey). '* Ah, John! I'm sorry to 
?,ee y*>ti in this pit i able Condition again t" 

Grv%*£*Bi&g£r* " 'Toots, Sir! Can ye no' lei a"e little PWt 
o mine ^ae pv?- lis rnony a mm kk a tic w fOdll I h,Ve happit 
owrt, an said nac thing aSool ! " 

40.— HV CJ4ARI.ES KEENE, 1879. 

In September, 1898, we saw one of the 
results of the lesson taught to John Bull in 
1879 by the Zulu in this Tenniel-cartoon, 
Slow and steady, swift and sure, Lord 
Kitchener kept this lesson that John Hull 
was taught in 1879 right before his eyes 
during the years of preparation for the final 
victory at Omdurman ; and John Bull can 
now almost afford to sponge the Zulu's lesson 
off the slate, for it has been driven right 
home by success 
as well as by 

Glancing at 
No, 38, we come 
to another very 
fine Keene-pic- 
ture in No, 39. 
The fisherman 
stamps and 
almost bursts 
with impotent 
rage as at the 
end of a whole 
day's fishing 
without a single 
rise he bangs his 
fly -hook into the 
stream with a 
M Take your 
Choice !"— about 

r*y * 

a " + \ ■ ■ re " I ■ ■ " ' ir"^*^ 
»- - ^ ■ sW^^B e* ■' ■ £ Up 

1 - 11 m -*§ 

**> m ■' * ^^W mm. 1 i'm 


1 TC^H^^KC^^' 


J "^ v-'l jt 

1 /^>3^^^^fl^HJL ■■ -* 


Thk I'i^k itK Example, — Jones (neatly married \ to kh bachrfor 
friends Brtmm nnd Keernsonl " Nu, it's not Youth, nor Beanty, nor 
Wealth ,. nor Rank,, thai a sensible Man should look Tor in a Wifr. If £ 
Common Scn^c, united to experience of life ; and St end fastness of Purpose, 
combined with a deep ihuLLgh by ruj means unpractical sense of the fleeting 
nature of Human lisistejiot* on ibi* " 

Re-enter Mm. J ones Y suddenly. " [in sorry to disturb you, my Love, I put 
its Retting laie h and ymi have an early appointment in Town to- morrow, 
rt'ith the Consulting Physician of the — ahem ! — of that Lift Insurant* 
Company, you know." 

( Taking the hint, Brmen and Robinson depart % each framing a desperate 
revive that he twill fkroiv himself aivay en the *irst Ginidmking young 
Heiress of Title he happens to meet,] 

4L\ — HV L>U MALHItifi, tSyq. 

Taking Measure.— Tailor fit st*mt Customer j. lk Have 
the kindness to put your Finger on ihU bit of Tape, Sir,— just 
here 1 TH be round in a Minute * " 

4t-— BY PU MAL'HIEJl, 1879, 

become almost insignificant by the side of 
Charles Keene's illustration of the joke. 
Pictures 41 and ^2 are both by Du 

Maurier, and 
although No. 42 
is burdened by a 
rather long piece 
of "cackle/* it is 
well worth inclu- 
sion here, espe- 
cially to those 
readers who will 
appreciate the 
full meaning of- 
this admirable 
woman's solici- 
tude that her 
husband may be 
quite fit to meet 
the Consulting 
Physician of the 
Life Insurance 
Company early 

C(To be 

continued.) Original from 


From Behind the Speaker's Chair. 




WHEN we consider the succes- 
sion of amendments and im- 
provements in Parliamentary pro- 
cedure that has marked the 
course of the last twenty years, it is reason- 
able to expect the factory at Westminster to 
at least double its output of legislation. 
There are in the present House some (sur- 
prisingly few) members who can recall the 
good old times when the House, commenc- 
ing public business at half-past four, thought 
Ministers fortunate if the first 
order of the day were reached 
before seven o'clock. 

In those halcyon days mem- 
bers putting a question delighted 
themselves, their wives and 
daughters in the gallery, by 
reading aloud its every word. 
The Irish members, quick to 
see innocent - looking openings 
for obstruction, seized upon 
what was ironically called "the 
question hour," They put 
down innumerable questions of 
prodigious length with as much 
sting directed against the 
Saxon — particularly Mr. 
Forster and Mr, George Tre- 
velyan, successively Irish Secre- 
taries — as the vigilance of the 
clerks at the table permitted. 

This went on for years, the 
House being relieved of the 
incubus by the intervention of 
Mr. Joseph Cowen 3 then mem- 
ber for Newcastle, He pointed 
out that the questions being 
printed on a paper held in every 
member's hand there was no 
necessity for reading the text, and sug- 
gested that citation of the number would 
suffice, The Speaker assented, and thus 
by an unpremeditated stroke the House was 
relieved from an intolerable burden. If 
there is room for more statues in the 
precincts of the House of Commons, or for 
a fresh stained-glass window in the Octagon 
Hall, a grateful Legislature should not forget 
u Joe w Cowen. 







by Google 

There was another outrage on 
the question hour that lon^ 
survived this radical reform, The 
fact that there were only ninety 
or a hundred printed questions 
on the paper did not, up to a period 
not more distant than the coming of Mr. 
Gully to the Chair, indicate the precise 
amount of time that would be appro priatcd 
for the service. When a printed question 
had been replied to, up got the gentleman 
responsible for it or some other 
member, and repeating the for- 
mula, " Arising out of that 
answer/* another question was 
put Members opposite, above 
or below the gaogway, thinly 
veiling a controversial point in 
the garb of a question^ followed, 
and quite a sharp debate lasting 
over several minutes sprang up. 
Mr. Sexton excelled all others 
in this art. On an average t 
question on the printed list 
standing in his name was the 
prelude to five others, each 
u arising out of the answer just 
given.*' Not the least valuable 
of the services rendered by Mr, 
Gully during his occupancy of 
the Chair has been stern re- 
pression of this irregularity. The 
Orders, or rather the custom of 
the House, make it permissible 
that a Minister having replied 
to a question on the paper a 
member may without notice put 
a further question designed to 
elucidate a point left obscure. 
He may not at the moment start 
on a new tack. Under Mr. Gully's alert super- 
vision it is amazing to find how little a 
Minister leaves unanswered of questions set 
forth on the paper. 

The deliberate and noisy pro- 
longation of questions was only 
one of the opportunities for 
obstruction the question hour in- 
vited mutinous members to avail 

themselves of The license of supplementary 





questions frequently worked the House into 
an uncontrollable storm of passion. In the 
midst of it would be heard a voice exclaim- 
ing, " I move that this House do now 
adjourn. 3) The member who spoke, how- 
ever personally obscure, was by the utterance 
of this incantation master of the whole 
Parliamentary proceedings. The business of 
Lhe day, whatever it might be, of whatever 
range of Imperial importance, was peremp- 
torily set aside, and on this formal motion 
the flood of angry temper rushed forth un- 
controlled, occupying as much of the sitting 
as physical endurance made possible. 

A little more than nineteen years 
a famous ago this month there was a scene 

scene, in the House of Commons that 
illustrates the working of what 
were ironically called its rules. Mr. O'Donnell 
had a question on the paper making a violent 
personal attack on M. Cbaliemel-Lacour, just 
a ppoi n ted French 
Ambassador at the 
Court of St James, 
Sir Charles Dilke* 
Under-Secretary for 
Foreign Affairs at 
the time, made due 
answer. Where- 
upon Mr. O'Donnell 
rose and began to 
make a speech en- 
larging on the 
indictment set forth 
on his printed 

That such a 
course of procedure 

was permissible will appear incredible to 
members of the present House of Commons. 
Mr, O'Donnell, as usual when combating 
authority in the House of Commons, knew 
what he was about. Attempts being made 
to stop him, he quietly replied, " I will 
conclude by a motion/' meaning that he 
would move the adjournment of the House- 

Go! liver bound by the manifold threads of 
the pigmies of Liliput was not more helpless 
than was the Imperial Houre of Commons 
in the hands of the member for Dungarvan, 
Mr, Gladstone, distraught, took the extreme 
course of moving that Mr. O'Donnell be not 
heard. That was a bold last card for the 
Premier to play. Mr. Parnell easily trumped 
it. Mr. O'Donnell had moved the adjourn- 
ment of the House. Mr, Parnell now moved 
the alternative obstructive motion — the 
adjournment of the debate. For eight hours 
by Westminster clock the angry storm of 

Digitized by tjuugrc 


words waged* At one o'clock in the morning 
Mr. O'Donnell retired triumphant from the 
scene, and the wearied House, with nice 
assumption of nothing having happened in 
the interval } proceeded with the list of 

Gentlemen of England, who live at ease 
in the House of Commons in these last 
days of the century, beginning questions at 
half-past three, with the certainty that the 
Orders of the Day will be reached before 
half-past four, and that all will be over by 
midnight, find a difficulty in believing that, 
less than twenty years ago, such things might 
be. They were, and it took considerable 
repetition and increased aggravation before 
the House of Commons shook itself free 
from the chains that bound it, 

Another, a less dramatic, but, by 
balloting, its regular recurrence, not less 
effective, block to the advance of 
business was the 
older manner of 
giving notices of 
motion. Every 
Tuesday evening, 
when the long 
labour of questions 
had been lifted from 
the shoulders of the 
House, the clerk at 
the table unlocked 
a box containing a 
pile of slips of paper 
-x3? carefully wrapped 

' up. These were 

notices of motion, 
and the receptacle 
was the ballot-box- In full view of the 
watchful House the clerk, dipping the out- 
stretched fingers of both hands into the 
mass, lifted them up and stirred them about 
as if he were publicly making a plum-pudding* 
This was designed to avoid suspicion of 
favouritism. Selecting at random one of the 
folded pieces of paper, he opened it and read 
aloud the number* The Speaker, referring to 
a long catalogue, called the name of the 
member to which the number was attached* 
Thereupon the member rose and recited the 
terms of a resolution he proposed to submit 
or the name of a Bill he desired to introduce, 
On the first night of the Session four Tues- 
days may be balloted for. It being the rule 
that a day for private members' motions may 
be secured only a month ahead, it follows that 
the weekly ballot thereafter opened only one 
opportunity— " this day four weeks*" Never- 
theless, the whole box of tricks was gone 





through. Every folded paper was opened, the 
number called out by the clerk at the table, and 
the corresponding name on the list cited by 
the Speaker. Then would the stranger in the 
gallery be mystified by observing member 
after member, his name cried from the Chair, 
respond by mutely raising his hat. The prize 
of that day four weeks had been snatched by 
another hand. Nothing remained. The 
succeeding proceedings were a mere formula, 
an absolute waste of presumably precious 
time. Nevertheless the box had always been 
scrupulously emptied, the list gone through 
to the bitter and far-off end* So year after year, 
in entirely altered circumstances, with the fin- 
de-sihk device of syndicates in full practice 
"nobbling" the ballot, the old order of 
things prevailed. Just as a Rock of sheep 
observing the leader jump over an imaginary 
obstacle jump at precisely the same spot, so 
the House of Commons, the highest develop- 
ment of British intelligence, carried on this 
ludicrous game. 

Only a few Sessions ago the Speaker intro- 
duced the practice of inquiring as soon as the 
available Tuesday was appropriated whether 
any other members have motions to bring 
forward. Of course they have not* The 
box is shut up, the list laid down, and the 
business of the day proceeded with. 

Once the hand of Parliament is 
put to the plough of reform of 



procedure it makes a deep* long 
f furrow* Another tradition which 

long dominated the House or 
Commons was that private members should 
on the opening day publicly announce their 

Digitized by <o< 

legislative intentions. This was called giving 
notice of motions. It was all very well in 
the days when the number was limited to a 
dozen or at most a score* In these days, with 
special wires to provincial newspaper offices, 
and with London correspondents on the look- 
out for the doings of local members, the situa- 
tion is changed. Much as people coming to 
town for the season leave cards on a circle of 
friends advertising their arrival, so modern 
members of Parliament let their constituents 
know they are at their post by the costless 
contrivance of giving notice of motion on the 
opening day of the Session. 

In recent times the average aggregate 
number exceeded two hundred. The business 
was carried on by the process described of 
the ballot box and the list in the Speaker's 
hand, An hour, sometimes an hour and a 
half, of the freshest day of the Session was 
occupied with, a performance that had no 
recommendation save its cheap advertising. 
Now the balloting is done by the clerks in a 
Committee Room upstairs* and a working 
hour of the Session is saved* 

There remains an obvious coh- 
ering ing sequential reform, whose accom- 
in bills, plish merit cannot be long delayed- 
Private members having had a 
field clay on the first night of the Session, 
had another performance all to themselves 
on tlit: second day. This is called ''Bringing 
in Bills " — a tiresome, objectless performance 
that might be dispensed with without in- 
juring the foundations of the State* The 
Speaker, reading from his list, recites the 
name of a Bill* and asks, " Who is prepared 
to bring in this Rill?" Up rises a private 
member, and reads a list of names> modestly 
concluding with the not least important 
" And Myself." When the list has been 
gone through in monotonous fashion, the 
members in charge of Bills crowd the Bar, 
are called up one by one by the Speaker, 
and hand to the clerk at the table what 
purports to be their Bill. The proceeding 
is fraudulent, as well as foolish. The docu- 
ment is no Bill at all, merely a sheet of 
foolscap folded over and indorsed with a 

This Session seventy-one Bills were brought 
in. Seventy -one times the Speaker asked, 
(i \Vho is prepared to bring in this Bill?" 
Seventy-one lists of members were recited 
by as many members, concluding, with vary- 
ing inflexions of modesty, "and Myself/ 1 
Seventy-one members crowded at the Bar. 
Seventy-one names were called out by the 
Speaker. Seventy -one members marched up 




to the table blushing with consciousness of 
the sham document carried in their hands. 
Seventy-one times the derk at the table to 
whom the fraud was furtively handed read its 
title ; seventy-one times the Speaker inquired, 
" What day for the second reading ?" Three 
s-.eore and eleven fixtures were made. 

It is not worth the trouble of looking up 
how many were kept If when next month 
the prorogation take place it appear that the 
odd eleven Bills have been added to the 
Statute Book, private members may boast a 
record Session. 

The death of Sir John Mowbray 
sir john removes from the House of 
mowbrav. Commons almost the last, cer- 
tainly the best known, of an old 
type. In the present assembly its honoured 
Father was the only relic of the Parliament 
elected in 1852. He was first returned for 
Durham in 18 53, and sat continuously through 
eleven Parliaments. For forty years he bore 
the honoured rank of Privy 
Councillor. He held modest 
office under three Administra- 
tions, I^ord Derby called him 
to the Treasury Bench first in 
1858, renewing the invitation in 
1866, When, in 186S, Mr- 
Disraeli was Premier he promptly 
availed himself of the opportunity 
of associating with his Ministry 
so fine a type of the English 
gentleman. For nearly a quarter 
of a century Sir John acted as 
chairman of the Committee on 
Standing Orders and of the 
Committee of Selection. 

He lived in and for the 
House of Commons, serene in 
the surety that he had not a 
single enemy. A party man in 
the sense that he always spoke 
and voted with the Con- 
servatives, he looked with 
generous eye on the political 
vagaries of others* At a time 
when, owing to their violence in 
the House of Commons and 
suspicion of complicity in crime 
in Ireland, Irish members of the 
House of Commons were regarded as pariahs, 
Sir John Mowbray preserved his personal re- 
lations with such among them as he had known 
in quieter times. He was not a persistent 
contributor to debate. When he rose he was 
listened to with the respect his high character 
and far-reaching personal associations with 
public men and historic epochs commanded. 

Digitized b/Xjt 

happily, had 
Only last 
account of the 
was at 
of the 

LOO "— THE LATE >"K jOHti 

He had seen much and, 
preserved clear impressions, 
year he gave me a vivid 
coronation of William IV, He 
the time a Westminster boy, and 
himself of the ancient privilege 
school to take his place in the Abbey, 
above the benches allotted to peers on 
occasion of the coronation. He 
Queen Victoria riding in State to 
crowned in the Abbey. He was at 
time at Oxford. When the Queen married, 
the youth at Oxford drew up a loyal 
address. Young Mowbray had the good 
luck to be included in the deputation that 
proceeded to I.4>ndon to present it. He told 
me he did not remember very much about 
the Queen, his attention being concentrated 
on the figure of the Duke of Wellington 
standing in close attention on his youthful 

"You know," he said, "I was bom just 
before the Battle of Waterloo, 
and felt I had a sort of connec- 
tion with the Duke." 

Having long passed 
11 very the age of fourscore 
cold," the end could not 
be far off. It was 
undoubtedly hastened by his 
insistence upon attending to his 
Pa rl ia m e n tary d u t i es* A rumour 
was current that he meant to 
retire from Parliamentary life. 
He would show everyone that 
there was no foundation for 
such gossip- So he came up one 
bleak spring afternoon, took his 
familiar seat above the gangway, 
chatted with friends in the lobby, 
and went off to have a cup of 
tea, A very oid friend who sat 
at the table with him told me he 
after a while withdrew in alarm. 
The old man was in such a state 
of nervous excitement, talked so 
rapidly, coughed so ominously, 
he thought he would be better 
left to himself A very short time 
after Sir John sank back shiver- 
ing in his chair, 
**I am very cold/ 1 he said to another 
friend, a famous doctor, who approached him 
with shy endeavour not to look professional. 

It seemed he would die in the House in 
which he had lived so long. But they man- 
aged to get him to his own home, where soon 
the < old of which he had complained deepened 
into the chi lines* of death. Sir John Mow- 


4 8 


bray was not a great statesman, nor will his 
name shine forth from Parliamentary annals 
as th:it of an orator or as a debater But he 
was the kind of men who form the backbone 
of the House of Commons, who have built 
up and who, whilst they are with us, maintain 
its unique reputation. 

the e ' ot °^ *' ie B enl l eman w ' 10 

house of ^ as c b ar g e °f the ventilation 
commons 1 ^PP^^* ^ House of Com- 
air ™^ n s is, like the policeman s, not 
a happy one. The machinery at 
his disposal is the most elaborate, and — 
having had longer continuous experience than 
the majority of members — I venture to say, 
is the most successful in the world. There 
is nothing about which two or three people 
gathered together more sharply differ than on 
the point of temperature. What is one man's 
freezing point is another man's approach to 
suffocation. In 
cold weather 
there are always 
elderly members 
sending impera- 
tive injunctions 
to have the 
tern per a ture 
raised, followed 
in a quarter of 
an hour by 
angry protests 
from younger 
men that they 
can scarcely 
breathe in so 
heated an at- 
mosphere. In 
summer time a 
window, whether 

open or shut, is equally a casus hellL The 
best thing the engineer can do is to go his 
own way, unmindful of private protests on 
one side or the other. 

If any member wants to realize how great 
is the blessing of the ventilation machinery of 
the House of Commons, he should go over 
to *' another place' 1 on one of the rare 
occasions when it is crowded in view of 
debate on topics relating either to rent or 
religion. The elaborate contrivance that 
supplies the House of Commons with fresh 
air does not extend to the House of Lords. 
That gilded chamber is dependent, like 
ordinary halls, upon the manipulation of 
the windows. After a few hours' occupation 
by anything approaching a crowd, the atmos- 
phere becomes distinctly stuffy. No matter 
how long or how late or how crowded the 

Digitized by G< 


House of Commons may sit, the atmosphere 
suffers scarcely perceptible change. Ever 
fresh draughts of" air, drawn in from the 
surface of the salubrious Thames, purified 
by passage through thick layers of cotton- 
wool, iced in summer, warmed in winter, are 
driven up through the open ironwork of the 
floor, circulated through the chamber, steadily 
passing out by apertures in the roof. 

In the good old days of all-night sittings 
I have left the House for a hasty bath and 
breakfast, and coming back in the brightness 
of early morning have found the atmosphere 
of the otherwise worn out House as fresh as 
it was when the long sitting opened. 

Lord Peel tells me a curious 
circumstance garnered from his 
experience when Speaker. It 
was found that whenever discus- 
sion became heated the thermometer which 

guides the engi- 
n e e r in his 
adjustment of 
the temperature 
invariably went 
up, falling as 
soon as order 
was restored, 

At the end of 
each Session 
returns are 
ordered , show- 
ing among mis- 
cellaneous mat- 
ters how* many 
days the House 
has sat, the 
duration of sit- 
tings, the num- 
ber of divisions, 
the number of times the closure has been 
moved, and the proportion of accept- 
ance by the Speaker or the Chairman of 
Ways and Means. Here is suggestion of a 
new and significant inquiry. A table marking 
the maximum temperature of the House from 
day to day, with foot-notes showing the 
subjects under discussion, would be most 
useful to the student and historian of Parlia- 
mentary manners. 

It would be interesting to know (i) what 
was the temperature in the House on the 
27th of July, 1893, five minutes before the 
cry of " Judas!" smote the car of Mr. 
Chamberlain as he stood at the table, genially 
comparing Mr. Gladstone to King Herod at 
the moment preceding the awful fate follow- 
ing on a reign of unrelieved wickedness; {2) 
the temperature marked ten minutes later 
Original from 


.\ H.-i.-iI V I' A I H 



when Mr* Hayes Fisher seized Mr. Logan 
by the back of the neck and thrust 
him forth from the Front Opposition 

Early in the Session a private 
resurganl measure, The General Power 
Distributing Company Bill, was 
disposed of by the euphuism of a resolution 
declaring that it be "read a second time 
upon this day six months." That is the 
delicate manner in which the House of 
Commons, dissembling its love } kicks Bills 
downstairs. The idea is that on the appointed 
date the House will be in. recess. The Bill 
confidently coming up to be read a second 
time finds the lights are fied, the garlands 
dead, and all but he departed. 

As the Session advances nearer to its 
close accident is averted by reducing the 
interval, obnoxious Bills being appointed to be 
read a second - 
time "on this 
day three 

In the good 
old days, before 
the introduc- 
tion of the sav- 
ing ordinance 
whereby Sup- 
ply automatic- 
ally closes so 
that the pro- 
rogation inevit- " LAV um AND SAID NUF " K/ 
ably takes place 

in the first fortnight of August, there was 
always opening for accident. In this par- 
ticular case it was on the 3rd of March the 
House resolved to read the Bill a second time. 
That would bring it up again on the 3rd of 
September. In the storm and stress of Mr. 
Gladstone's prime it was by no means 
impossible to find the Session prolonged 
into the fust week in September. 

There is a case wherein the 

denman's u ? iex P e ? ted happened. Among 

his active legislative habits the 

late Lord Den man took charge 

surprise. f a Roman's Suffrage Bilk At 

the beginning of every Session he brought it 

in, and noble lords, not to be outdone 


hustling about the 
if it were a football. 

in the matter of regularity, every Session 
threw it out One year it happened that 
the accustomed fate befell his pet measure 
in the third week of February. In the fewest 
possible minutes the House resolved that the 
Bill should "be read a second time on this 
day six months." Lord Denman, like a well- 
known rabbit, lay low and said nuffin. The 
Session proved a busv one. Both Houses 
were sitting in the third week of August. 
One night Lord Den man rose, and blandly 
reminding their lordships of the datej claimed 
the privilege of having his Bill read a second 
time as ordered. 

As a rule the House of Ix>rds had 
Den man at their feet, 
poor pathetic figure as 
Now he had the House of Lords between 
finger and thumb. By some hocus-pocus of 
distinction between calendar months and 

lunar months 
the House wrig- 
gled out of the 
difficulty. Lord 
Denman car- 
ried his grey 
hairs in sorrow 
down to the 
grave with the 
pained certainty 
that he had 
been cheated 
out of the re- 

'—THE LATE LORD MLS MAS'. Wird of 3 H^ 

Charming thing said by one of 
a hack Her Majesty's Ministers about a 
view. nominal supporter of the Govern- 
ment whose general bearing does 
not endear him to mankind. A tender- 
hearted colleague was trying to make the best 
of a bad job. 

" He means well," he said, "but is perhaps 
a little soured by disappointment. He may, 
you know, from his point of view be acting 
for the best Anyhow, let us take the most 
favourable view of him possible under all 

" Very well," said the right honourable 
gentleman, with unwonted grimness* "Let 
us see his back.' 

Vol. xviii.— 7. 

by Google 

Original from 

Launched at Society. 

By Victor L. Whitechurch. 

TELL you, the curse of our 
so - called civilization, in 
Western Europe at least, lies 
not so much in tyrannical 
Governments and fools who 
submit to them, as in pleasure 
—luxury. What is it that makes men and 
women apathetic to the shrieking cries of 
humanity? The race-course, the theatre, the 
ball-room, the whirl of selfish, social pleasure 
and amusement. It is against this that blows 
must be directed in the future if we would 
achieve our ends. It must not be the single 
tyrant struck with the dagger, the public 
building ruined with the bomb, unless the 
bomb is cast into the theatre rather than into 
the council chamber ! " 

These extraordinary words were borne 
forcibly upon my ears as I awoke from an 
afternoon siesta one sunny day in the be- 
ginning of June. 

I was spending a week or two on the 
north Cornish coast, and had walked from my 
hotel at Tintagel to a charming little inlet 
known as Tregarget Strand, taking my lunch 
with me in a satchel. After my modest 
repast, partaken of at the foot of huge, 
rugged cliffs, with the waves breaking in 
upon the smooth rocks in the foreground, I 
had strolled aimlessly along the shore until 
I had hit upon a cave in the cliff. Bent 
on exploration, I penetrated this cave for 
about twenty yards, sat down on a com- 
fortable rock within, lit my pipe, and gave 
myself over to the contemplation of the 
sunlit sea sparkling beyond the entrance. 
The day was very hot for the time of year, 
and the cool atmosphere of the cave was a 
welcome change. Finally, half-reclining as 
I was upon the rock, I must have dozed 
off to sleep, and, as I said before, the above 
sentence fell on my ears as I woke. 

At the entrance of the cave were two men. 
One a small, rather stout, bearded individual, 
seated with his face turned slightly away from 
me ; the other a young man of about six or 

Digitized by CiOOQ I C 

seven and twenty, with an excited, ruddy 
face, fair sandy moustache, and curly hair of 
the same colour. He was standing up before 
his companion, declaiming to him with 
earnestness and many gestures. 

I saw at once that they were not aware of 
my presence, hidden a^ I was in the semi- 
darkness and shadow of the cave's interior. 
My first impulse was to come forth and 
declare myself, ^ut laziness and curiosity 
combined got the better of me, and I kept 
still. . 

" And so we -are going to put this theory 
into practice, eh ? " said the man who was 
seated, slowly and deliberately. 
* " We r_re, my friend, yes— at last we are," 
went on the other, excitedly. "I have 
worked the scheme out to the full, and we 
and our two good comrades are agreed. 
Yes, in a month's time we shall strike a blow 
at which society shall indeed shiidder and 
take warning — a blow to pleasure on a 
gigantic scale." 

" Meanwhile," rejoined his companion, " I 
should keep a little bit cooler, if I were you, 
and not talk so loud. One never knows 
where danger exists." 

" True," replied the other; " my excitement 
carries me away sometimes, especially when 
I think what we have undertaken." 

" Well," said the stout man, rising from his 
seat and taking his companion's arm, " it's 

lucky I know something about submarine " 

That was all I heard. The breaking of a 
wave drowned the rest of the sentence as the 
two men disappeared from the mouth of the 

I rose to my feet and prepared to follow 
them. Then I reflected for a moment. If I 
left the cave at once, and they chanced to 
see me, the consequences might not only be 
disagreeable to myself, but, at least, I should 
excite suspicion. So I waited for a few 
minutes. When I emerged into the day- 
light once more I saw them disappearing 
in the distance towards the little bay from 




which one mounted the cliffs, I started 
quickly after them, but had scarcely gone a 
dozen steps when my foot slipped on a bit 
of seaweed attached to a rock, and I fell 
heavily with an awful crash on my knee. 
When I picked myself up I could only walk 
slowly and with pain, and the end of it was 
that I lost sight of the two strangers alto- 
gether. Subse- 
quent inquiries 
in the neigh- 
bourhood failed 
to draw any 
i n formation 
them. The inci- 
dent remained 
in my memory 
for a week or 
so, and then 
gradually died 

At the time 
of which I am 
speaking I held 
a lieutenant's 
commission in 
the Navy. I 
had been inva- 
lided home 
from an African 
station for six 
months, and was 
gradually recov- 
ering my health, 
which had suf- 
fered from 
fever, and was 
taking things 
pretty easily. 
One day I re- 
ceived an invi- 
tation to go and 
spend a week 
at Henley dur- 
ing the regatta. 
Some friends of 
mine had taken 

a house-boat, and were getting up a fairly 
large party. Now, as there happened to 
be a certain lady in the case whom I 
knew was also invited, 1 accepted with 
alacrity, looked up all manner of boating 
costumes, packed my portmanteau, and took 
an afternoon train from Paddington on the 
day before the regatta. 

As we moved out of the station I noticed 
a man seated in the farther corner of the 
carriage. Something, I could not at first tell 


1 M"AKT|il> i*\ ICKI-V AFTKK THJ-.M. 

what, about him seemed familiar, and pre- 
sently, as he turned his face half away from 
me to look out of the window, there flashed 
across my mind the scene in the cave at 
TregargeL It was the small man with the 
dark beard, My curiosity was aroused, 
especially when it flashed across my mind 
that the month was just up. He appeared 

the very essence 
of a boating 
man, clad in 
light summer 
costume and a 
straw hat. 

W hen the 
train drew up 
at Henley there 
was a further 
A tall young 
man in flannels 
and blazer was 
on the plat- 
form, and 
lounged up to 
my travelling 
companion as 
he alighted. It 
was the other 
of the two men, 
"Got it?" 1 
heard him ex- 
claim, in a 
casual tone of 

The bearded 
man nodded, 
and they walked 
towards the 
brake van, I 
waited on the 
platform for a 
few moments. 

Presently I 
saw them assist- 
ing a porter to 
lift a large pack- 
age out of the 
brake van, a box about 4^ft in length and 
some 18m. square. They seemed very par- 
ticular about the way it was laid on a trolley 
and wheeled down the platform. I saw them 
both deposit this box in a cab, end up, and 
drive off. I engaged another, and as we 
journeyed to the river I pondered over 
this somewhat mysterious affair, but forgot 
all about it a few minutes afterwards when 
I met Hilda Carr at the tea-table on the 

house-boar) r jginalfrorr 


5 = 



I had come to Henley with the express 
purpose of proposing to Hilda Carr. She 
told me afterwards she guessed it herself. 
But my love-making by no means made 
much headway for the next twenty-four hours. 
Girls arc such idiots, or at least they behave 
in such a silly way, that they make a fellow 
feel mad. They can't be serious when a 
?mtn wants to be serious. When I got her 
up in a quiet little corner of the upper deck 
that same evening, and managed to blow out 
the Chinese lantern nearest to us to make it 
darker and give me a better chance ; and 
when I began talking seriously about the 
stars and things, instead of seeing what I was 
driving at, she simply said :— 

"Oh, Mr. Barton, do come and listen to 
these lovelv niggers. 15 

And then she went off to the others, and 
encouraged a pack of wretched blackamoors 
who were serenading the house-boat from a 

It was just the same the next day, She 
never gave me a chance. She sat next to a 
fellow named Willoughby at lunch, and he 
seemed to get on famously with her. It 

by L^OOgle 

nearly drove me wild. I hinted to her that 
I was put out, but she only laughed at me. 

But in the evening, after dinner, my luck 
turned, and I managed to get her alone in a 
Canadian canoe belonging to the house-boat. 
We paddled up stream beneath the quaint 
old bridge, now crowded with people return- 
ing to the station. The sun had set by the 
time we reached Marsh Lock, about three- 
quarters of a mile from the course, I paddled 
into the lock with some other craft. 

" Are you going farther, Mr. Barton ? JT 
said my companion. 

"Oh," 1 replied, "let's just go through. 
There 1 s lots of time." 

To tell the truth, I was anxious to get into 
a quiet reach, for I had a certain question 
to ask. That was why I wanted to go 
through the lock. 

I was just beginning to ease down a bit 
when we had gone a few hundred yards 
farther, and was thinking of how I had better 
begm, when a certain voice arrested my 
attention, J 

It came from a house-boat. Now, during 
Henley week most of the house-boats are 
Original from 




moored alongside the course on the Rucks 
side, and it was somewhat unusual to find 
one above Marsh Lock. It was a small, 
dingy- looking concern, and only four men 
were aboard her, sitting on the deck smoking. 
The voice 1 recognised was that of the fair- 
moustached young man— and there he was, 
one of the group. 

The coincidence set me thinking as I 
paddled on. Was there some deep plot 
about to be unfolded ? Were they Nihilists 
or Anarchists? I remembered that outburst 
against society pleasures, and here was the 
man who made it, present at one of the 

" I'm sure I don't want you to think of 
me," she replied ; " but really we'd better be 
turning. It's getting quite dark," 

I turned the canoe rather surlily. It had 
choked me off for the moment. As we neared 
the house-boat once more, I rested on my 
paddle so as to drift by silently. A punt was 
alongside, and in the gloom I could see a 
figure stepping into it Then I distinctly 
heard the words : — 

"To-morrow afternoon . . . t drop my 

I dipped my paddle in the water and we 
shot ahead, the punt following close astern. 


gayest scenes in England - Henley Regatta ; 
what did it mean ? 

"A penny for your thoughts ! " said Hilda. 
"Why so silent?" 

"They're not worth it/ I replied. Why 
do men always make bungling replies at the 
wrong moment? 

" Oh," she said, rather tartly. 

"No," I said, realizing that I had put my 
foot in it. £1 If Vd been thinking of you it 
would be different," 

Digitized by C-OOQK' 

We entered the lock together and lay there 
side by side. As I struck a match to light a 
cigarette the glare of it showed me the face 
of the man in the punt. 

It was the young fellow with the red 

I am not going to weary the reader with 
the details of how I proposed to Hilda Carr 
on the way back. Suffice it to say that, in 
spite of my pleading, nothing would induce 




her to give me a decisive answer. She would 
neither say yes nor no, and I simply felt a 

I felt a bigger one next day* She snubbed 
me horribly, and I nearly kicked young 
Willoughby. Vm afraid I got in a temper, so 
much so that I sneaked away from lunch 
and embarked in the canoe by myself, deter- 
mining to paddle up and down the course. 

Anyone who has tried this at Henley 
knows what it means. Between the bridge 
and " Regatta Island" are hundreds upon 
hundreds of boats, punts, and canoes, a 
veritable carnival of colour and beauty such 

Good ! I wanted something in my present 
mood to take my mind off things. So I 
determined to follow him* It was a good 
five minutes before I could turn, and when I 
did so he was fifty yards away from me. 

Bang ! A race had begun. I was hemmed 
in for a minute and could not stir. I could 
see him moving on, though. 

"Well rowed, Eton! go it, Lcander! — 
now then, stroke ! " 

The crews came by in grand style. My 
eyes were fixed on the punt creeping ahead. 

Splash, and an ugly rocking. The "wake" 
of the umpire's steam launch. 


as can only be seen on this beautiful reach 
of the Thames, Every now and then the 
warning bells command the clearance of the 
course, and the craft on either side become 
still more densely packed. It is no easy task 
to pilot one's way through the endless flotilla, 
and skill and patience alike are necessary. 

Bump ! The nose of my canoe ran into a 
punt* It was not my fault. The occupant, 
who was using paddles only, ought to have 
seen me. 

-' I beg your pardon, sir ! " 

It was my old friend of the fair moustache, 
got up in flannels and blazer, working his 
way up stream. 


All clear now ! I slipped into the course 
and picked up a little speed. In and out, 
carefully, gingerly, went the punt and my 
canoe. At length we were beyond the 
crowded part, and as I shot under the 
bridge my unconscious quarry was punting 
hard about a hundred yards ahead up stream. 
I kept this distance between us, for I did 
not want to raise his suspicions. 

1' resent ly we drew near Mar^h Lock. He 
punted Lip to the shore, made his punt fast, 
and stcpi>ed out, I followed in a lazy 
manner, lighting my pipe carelessly as I 
strolled after him towards the lock. 

The latter was full of boats coming down 




stream. They had just closed the upper 
gates and opened the sluices, I watched the 
water swirling into the lock, and then I 
marked the movements of the man I had 

He was close to the upper gates, gazing at 
the stream beyond, I looked, too, and saw 
rather a curious thing. There was a large 
boat with two men in it close alongside the 
mysterious house -boat some little distance 
up stream- Apparently at a sign from the 
man who stood on the lock, they came rowing 
towards us. 

When they were about a hundred yards 
away they stopped pulling, and, in an 
aimless manner, allowed the boat to drift 
round, so that the stern pointed towards the 
lock gates. Then I saw that not only was 
the boat of unusual size for a river craft, 
but that she carried something 
rather heavy in the stem — some- 
thing covered over in a peculiar 

One of the two men in her 
kept her in position with her head 
up stream, the other stood up 
and gazed towards the lock* 

The latter had now filled, and 
the lock -keeper and his assistant 
were opening the lower gates to 
allow the boats out. Presently 
both of them were opened wide 
and the procession commenced. 

It was then that F turned to 
look at the man of the punt. 
He was apparently studying the 
water, and puffing away at a 
cigar. Suddenly I noticed he 
held a handkerchief loosely in 
his hand. 

A moment afterwards and he 
had dropped it— dropped it into 
the water above the upper gates, 

I looked at the boat, The 
man who had been standing up 
was apparently stooping. There 
were no other boats near him. 

Suddenly I saw some dark 
object drop from the stern of 
the boat into the water. The 
man who was standing near me 
instantly turned and walked 
quietly but quickly away from 
the lock gates, while the boat im- 
mediately put towards the shore. 

I was fairly puzzled —but only 
for an instant For I saw some 
thing the next moment that 
appealed to my knowledge of 

naval gunnery, and revealed one of the most 
diabolical plots that the mind of man could 
conceive. That something was air bubbks— 
air bubbles rising to the surface of the water 
and travelling quickly towards the lock gates 
by which I stood. I knew the meaning of 
them only too well, and realized the appalling 
situation in a moment* - . 

A small torpedo, driven by compressed airj 
had evidently been launched from the stern 
of the boat, and in about ten or fifteen 
seconds would strike the lock gates beneath 
the surface of the water. 

And then what would happen ? It was 
three miles to the lock above— the lower 
gates of Marsh lock stood oj>en. It meant 
that three miles of water, four feet or so in 
height, would come sweeping down. It 
would be impossible to close the lower gates, 






and in five minutes a huge " tidal wave " 
would rush irresistibly and without warning 
upon the thousands of pleasure-seekers on 
the regatta course below. The destruction 
would be simply appalling. 

All this flashed through my mind as I 
watched the ominous bubbling of the escaping 
compressed air drawing nearer and nearer. 
For a couple of seconds or more I stood 
petrified with the horror of the situation. 
Then I threw off my coat, took a running 
dive, and plunged into the river. 

I had determined to turn the course of the 

I rose to the surface and struck out. The 
bubbles were only twenty yards, off. I 
measured the distance with my eye and 
swam on. 

" Crack ! " " Splash 1 "—close to my head 
in the water. 

The light-moustached man had seen my 
dive, rushed to the bank, and was firing at 
me with a revolver, regardless of the sundry 
spectators who were running towards him. 

" Crack ! " « Splash ! " Missed me again. 

The bubbles were very close. I dived, 
opened my eyes beneath the surface, and 
saw the ugly black thing coming at me. 

I knew that if I touched the apex I stood 
a chance of exploding the thing. But I was 
perfectly cool. I waited a moment, then 
put out my hand, seized it by the head very 
gingerly, and with a push deflected its course 
towards the bank ; the screw at the end 
struck my face slightly as it turned, and I 
rose to the surface and swam in the other 
direction for dear life. 

Towards the bank ! Yes, as I looked over 
my shoulder I saw my adversary standing 
close to the edge of the water. 

" Back for your lives ! " I yelled to some 
men who were making for him. " Back ! " 

The torpedo struck the bank. There was 
a dull roar, and I could see the earth fly and 
a mighty splash of water. Then I felt it — 
felt as if I were struck on every part of my 
body, and I knew no more. 

When I recovered consciousness I was 

lying on a sofa in the lock-keeper's cottage. 
Some fellows in flannels were standing 
around me. 

" You're all right," said one ; " I'm a 
doctor, you know. YouVe only had a shock. 
By Jove, though, you've done a plucky 

" Did you see it ? " 

" Only partly— you know what happened, 

" No- what ? " 

" Why, the thing exploded just at the foot 
of the fellow who was potting at you. We 
halted in time, but he was blown clean off 
his legs— it was awful. I couldn't do any- 
thing with him." 

" Where is he ? " 

" Dead," said the doctor. " He came 
round for a couple of minutes first, and 
began to curse you. Then he told us it was 
a small torpedo, with eight pounds of gun- 
cotton and an air-motor, and that if it hadn't 
been for you, Henley would be swamped by 
now. He died gloating over the thought." 

" Have they caught the others ? " 

"What others?" 

I told them. But no one had seen the 
two men in the boat make off, and they were 
never caught. The house-boat was searched 
afterwards by the police, and sundry tools 
and machines discovered, together with a 
few spare pounds of gun-cotton. From these 
it was evident that the torpedo had been 
about 4ft. long, and weighed about 501b., 
quite a small one, but sufficient to have 
blown up the lock gates, and thus to have 
brought destruction on thousands. 

They punted me back to Henley, took me 
aboard the house-boat, and told the story. 

And a couple of hours later I forgot the 
horror of it — when Hilda Carr said " Yes." 
She told me she had meant it all the time, 
but intended to wait until the end of the 
week — but that now I had done something 
to earn it sooner. 

And Willoughby had been sweet on 
another girl, after all. So it all ended happily 
— except for the young Anarchist. 

by Google 

Original from 

Royal Mesalliances, 

By A. de Burgh. 
" Amor omnia vincit, J 

L^t>rf^ a.: 

^ vU? 

HERE is one conclusion to 
which all psychologists have 
come, and that is that love is 
one of the strongest agents 
which move human beings to 
action. There seems to be no 
barrier insurmountable when it is a question 
of gaining one's heart's desire ; there is no 
pain which does not become insignificant if 
suffered in the service of love; and for the 
one cherished above all others patience and 
perseverance come never stronger to the fore 
--all obstacles appear of little importance, 
while even reason yields to the dictates of 
love and passion. However 
near to each other human 
beings may be brought by 
pity and sympathy, there is 
no doubt that love wields 
still a greater power in this 
direction ; neither rank nor 
station, wealth nor position, 
are considered when the 
heart sperms. 

Therefore it is only 
natural that marriages be- 
tween different classes are 
so frequent, and as those 
bom in the purple are of the 
same clay as the " common 
herd," there is nothing ex- 
traordinary or abnormal in 
so - called t( mesalliances," 
even when Royal personages 
unite themselves to persons 
in the more humble walks of life* The 
tendency of our century has been to level 
more and more the barriers which separate 
class from class, and the intercourse between 
the highest and lowest has become more 
frequent, more free, and much more intimate 
than was the case in former times. 

When love is in question, reason, self- 
interest, sometimes even honour, go for 
nothing ; they do not weigh in the balance. 
Self-interest is generally considered one of 
the most important elements that influence a 
man's or woman's action* It cannot 3 how- 
ever, compete with love. 

But it is by no means our intention to 
write an essay on a subject which has so fre- 
quently been treated by the ablest writers of 
the day. We simply wish to introduce briefly 

and prosaically a subject which is of more or 
Vol. xviii.— 8 


j'K [ K CKsS I'UAIKA, W 

Frvm a Fkuto< by 

less psychological and social interest; namely, 
the misalliances of notable personages, and 
our prefatory remarks may be Liken as an 
explanation of the action of those in high 
positions whom it is intended to bring before 
our readers as having followed the dictates 
of their hearts* 

Many years ago, when Royalties considered 
themselves of a different race— indeed, almost 
demigods — it was thought quite impossible 
that they could intermarry with commoners, 
and for such members of reigning families 
as were courageous enough to break the 
ridiculous law that shackled them, and 
married men or women 
belonging to the lower 
classes, a new form of mar- 
riage was specially invented, 
viz., "morganatic" marriage, 
which is in existence even 
to this day. In such cases 
neither child nor wife can 
hear the title or acquire the 
rank of the father or the 
husband, although the mar- 
riage is legitimate. 

Whether marriages of the 
class which we here specially 
consider were or are happy 
or not, it is not our task to 
investigate; but we may 
say that, as far as is known, 
the same rule prevails as 
in common marriages — 
some are happy, very 
happy j while others are fraught with misery 
and wretchedness* 

We must include in this present article the 
first King of Belgium, who, as Prince of 
Coburg, married for his first wife the only 
child of King George IV. of Great Britain 
and Ireland, whom he lost within a year of 
their marriage. Some time later Prince 
Leopold consoled himself by marrying 
morgan at ically the celebrated actress, Char- 
lotte Bauer, with whom he lived a very happy 
life, but whom he divorced when he accepted 
the throne of Belgium. His son by Charlotte 
Bauer is the well-known Baron von Epping- 
hoven, who is married to the daughter of the 
British Consul at Nice. 

Another scion of the same House, Prince 
Ferdinand of Coburg, also married an actress, 
Elise Hensler, an American by birth. He 
Original from 


Addle, Vienna. 



was formerly the ^husband of Queen Maria of 
Portugal, and one of the handsomest men 
of the present century. He received by 
legislative act and Royal decree the title of 
King Consort at the time of his marriage. 
So much affection prevailed between him 
and his Queen-wife that she began to aban- 
don to him the reins of government This 
caused great jealousy and ill-will amongst the 
people of Portugal, and ended in a revolution 
which forced the King Consort into a 
retirement from which he did not emerge 
until the death of the Queen, when he 
became Regent for the two years which 
elapsed until his eldest son attained his 
majority. It was after this that he married 
again as mentioned above, and devoted the 
remainder of his days to the collection of 
art-treasures, which he bequeathed at his 
death, a few years ago, to his American 
widow, who is still living. 

Only very lately Princess Elvira (whose por- 
trait is given on the previous page), daughter 
of Don Carlos, Duke of Madrid, eloped with 
a Roman artist, Tolchi, to whom she was 
afterwards married. She was only following 
in the footsteps of a somewhat long list of 
ladies of Royal blood. Of the reigning 
House of Spain the Princesses Isabella and 
Josephine, grand-aunts of the present youthful 
King, eloped with the men who subsequently 
became their morganatic husbands. 

Princess Isabella left the house of her 
father at Enghien, near Paris, in the most 
romantic fashion — by a rope-ladder — in the 
middle of the night, the handsome Polish 
Count Gurowski, to whom she had lost her 
heart, having a carriage waiting at the garden- 
gate. The couple fled to this country, where 
they were married. The union did not turn 
out happily, and when the Count died, 
twelve years ago at Paris, he had been 
separated for years from the Princess. 

Josephine was living at Madrid, at the 
Royal Palace, with her sister-in-law, Queen 
Isabella, at the time she eloped with a poet 
and journalist, who had started in life as a 
reporter for a daily newspaper in Havana. 
His story reads almost like a fairy tale. He 
had become infatuated with the daughter of a 
rich Cuban planter, but his suit was opposed 
by the father of the girl in the most con- 
temptuous manner. He told the lad that he 
was of far too low origin ever to dream of 
marrying his daughter. Enraged beyond 
measure, the young reporter exclaimed that 
he would show people who he was by marry- 
ing a Princess. 

He went to Madrid, where, after meeting 

with many rebuff's and suffering want and 
even hunger, he finally succeeded in making 
a name for himself as a poet and author. 
Several poems which he dedicated to Prin- 
cess Josephine sufficed to turn her head. 
She made the poet's acquaintance, and they 
soon became enamoured of one another. 
Finally they eloped from Madrid, and, after 
a secret marriage at Valladolid, made their 
way to Paris. 

Consternation prevailed in the Royal 
Family and in Court circles when their flight 
became known. Both the Court and Govern- 
ment made strenuous efforts to have the 
marriage invalidated, but in vain. The people 
were delighted with the union, and manifested 
in the strongest manner their dissatisfaction 
with the sentence of banishment pronounced 
against the fugitive lovers. After a while, 
however, the good-nature of Queen Isabella 
prevailed, and the couple returned to Spain 
with honour, the Sovereign receiving the 
popular poet in every way as her brother-in- 
law. The Royal Family had at no time 
reason to regret the marriage, and the ex- 
journalist's three sons are perhaps the most 
popular, and certainly the most accomplished, 
members of the family. 

The ancient House of Austria the Haps- 
burgs, has been especially remarkable for the 
number of morganatic marriages amongst 
its members. Considering the lineage (the 
Hapsburgs claim descent from Julius Caesar) 
and the strictness of the etiquette prevailing 
at the Austrian Court, and remembering the 
exclusiveness and the loftiness of the position 
of the Imperial House, it seems at first 
surprising to see scions of this highly auto- 
cratic and proud family allying themselves 
to subjects in the humbler walks of life. 
Early in this century (1827) Europe was 
startled by the announcement of the marriage 
of Archduke John, afterwards for a time the 
nominal head of the then still existing German 
Confederation (Bund), with Anna Plochl, the 
daughter of a peasant posting-master of a 
small Styrian village. The story of the 
meeting and courtship is well worth repeating. 
The . Archduke was coming from Italy, 
on his way to Vienna, where his immediate 
presence was commanded, and when at 
Aussee (it was before the time of railways) 
there was no postilion at hand to take 
him on his way ; the postmaster's daughter 
donned the dress of a postilion, and drove 
the Archducal carriage to the next station. 
The youthful Prince discovered the sex of his 
driver, admired her pluck, fell in love with 
her, and made her his wife. She was created 


'-1 1 1 I :i I I I ■-_• I II 





From a Photo, by Stokla*. linden. 

Baroness Brandhof, and by the present 
Emperor in 1850 Countess of Meran. Her 
descendants still flourish in Austria as Counts 
of Meran, 

At Budapest it is well known that Count 
Louis Batthyany, who was shot by the 
Austrian troops in the market-place of that 
city for his complicity in the insurrection of 
1 848, could have effected his escape the night 
before his execution, had he consented to fly 
with the Archduchess Maria, who was deeply 
in love with him. 

One of the most remarkable marriages of 
this century to which one of the daughters of 
the Austrian Emperor was forced to consent, 
and which has always been considered a most 
humiliating alliance for the ancient House of 
Hapsburg, was the marriage of the Arch- 
duchess Marie Louise to Napoleon L The 
ex- Em press entered afterward into a matri- 
monial alliance with Count Neuperg, and the 
Austrian Princes Montenuovo of to-day are 
the descendants of that marriage. Napoleon's 
son, the Duke of Reichstadt{King of Rome), 
who was naturally considered a most incon- 
venient personage, ruined his health by dis- 
sipation into which, as many believe to this 
day, he was intentionally led by those who 
had the care of him, 

In more modern times we can record two 
morganatic marriages in this Imperial House. 
Archduke Henry married an actress, and in 

consequence was compelled to resign his 
rank in the army and was banished from the 
Court; however, many years afterwards, 
through the intervention of the late Empress 
Elizabeth, Francis Joseph forgave his cousin, 
whose wife received the title of Baroness 
Wei deck. 

But the saddest episode is that known as 
the mystery of Johann Orth> one of the most 
remarkable romances in *the dynastic history 
of Europe in this century. The Archduke 
John Sal vat or of Tuscany, a nephew of the 
Emperor Francis Joseph, had fallen in love 
with an actress and singer, Ludmilla Hubel, 
whom he married in spite of all family oppo- 
sition, renouncing at the same time all his 
rights, privileges, and rank, and assuming the 
name of Orth, after one of his castles. The 
romantic marriage was celebrated secretly t 
but in a perfectly legal manner, by the 
Registrar of Islington, and was witnessed by 
the Consul-General of Austria in London. 

Johann Orth next bought, in 189 1, a fine 
ship in Liverpool, which he re-named Santa 
Margarita ; and so anxious was he to guard 
against the vessel being recognised, that he 
stipulated that all drawings and photographs 
of it should be handed over to him, and 
these he burned with his own hands ; more- 
over, he caused all portraits and negatives 
of himself and of his wife to be bought 



From fl fMa 6* iippe, Fimmo. 

Original from 




up at any pricey and these were likewise 
destroyed. We are giving here only absolute 

Shortly afterwards the ex-Archduke and 
his wife set sail for South America, and the 
vessel was duly reported to have arrived at 
Monte Video, and departed for a destination 
unknown. Rut from that moment every trace 
was lost of the ship and all on board, no 
news as to her fate having ever been heard, 
although many a search has been made along 
the coast by order of the Emperor of Austria 
and his Government. Adventurers and 
treasure -seekers have been at work, as 
it was well known that Johann Orth had 
on board over a quarter of a million pounds 
in specie ; it is believed that he intended to 
have bought an estate in Chili with the 
money and to have settled there, but that the 
vessel foundered off Cape Horn during a 
terrific storm which raged on the coast 
shortly after the ship had left. From time 
to time since then the most startling 
rumours have been set afloat about the miss- 
ing Prince having turned up: one being 
that he had been one of the leaders of the 
Chilian rebellion, having divided his treasure 
among his crew, burned his ship, landed on 
a lonely coast, etc. His own mother, who 

• Wilh cresu difficulty we have~bi7n able ta~prau^~ wV 
trait* of Johann Ortb and bfl wife from photograph* in the 
fKnoesAion of a si*t*r of Frau Orth, who live* in a sniaJI village 
in bwilzerbuid, and we can vgudi for their genuineness These 
portraits have never before been reproduced, 

died only a few months ago at the Castle 
Orth, I Relieved her son alive to her very last 
hour, and expected his return. The Swiss 
Government is of a different opinion, and 
assumed the death of the Archduke, and paid 
over to Frau Orth's next-of-kin a large amount 
of money, which johann Orth deposited as a 
settlement for his wife with the Swiss authori- 
ties before his departure, and there is little 
doubt that the Santa Margarita lies at the 
bottom of the sea, and that all on board 

The most recent morganatic marriage in 
the dynastic history of the Imperial House of 
Romanoff was the union a few years ago (very 
much against the wish of the Czar Alexander 
IIL) of the Grand Duke Michael Michaelo- 
vitch with the then Countess Sophia de 
Merenbergj born in i868> afterwards granted a 
special patent of nobility as Countess de Torby 
for herself and descendants by the reigning 
Grand Duke of Luxembourg, the step-brother 
of her father, Prince Nicolaus of Nassau. 
The accomplished Countess of Torby is, 
therefore, of Royal blood on her paternal 
side, Prince Nicolaus having, in 1867, also 
made a morganatic marriage with the 
Countess of Merenberg, the daughter of the 
great Russian poet, Poutchkinc, whereby this 
Prince equally unselfishly renounced all his 
claims to the Grand Ducal throne. The 
Countess of Torby is a cousin of the Queen- 
Mother of Holland and the Duchess of 




From a unique private Photo, 

Original from 



Albany. The Grand Duke was formerly a 

colonel in the Russian army, but was, on his 

marriage, placed on the retired list. Since 

their marriage, which took 

place at San Renio early 

in 1891, the Grand Duke 

has resided with his family 

at Wiesbaden, or at his 

charming chateau on the 


Had Lieutenant Baria- 
tinski possessed sufficient 
courage there would have 
been another mesalliance 
to record in the family of 
the Autocrat of All the 
Russian The beautiful 
Grand Duchess Olga, the 
favourite daughter of Oar 
Nicholas L, was on the 
point of eloping with the 
lieutenant, when at the last 
moment his heart failed 
him, and he made a clean 
breast of the whole affair 
to His Majesty, with the 
lesult that the Grand 
Duchess was married at once to Prince 
Charles of Wiirtemberg, afterwards King of 
that country, while the cowardly young 
officer was rewarded with such rapid pro- 
motion that before he had reached the age 
of fifty he had attained the 
rank of field-marshal. 

Two morganatic mar- 
riages, which are better 
known through the descen- 
dants thereof— some of 
whom have made our 
country their home, and 
are allied to our own 
Royal Family, and have 
endeared themselves 
amongst the people who 
know them well— are those 
of the late Duke Alexander 
of Wurtemberg and the late 
Grand Duke Alexander of 
Hesse and the Rhine. The 
former married a Hun- 
garian lady of ancient 
lineage, the Countess Clau- 
dine of Rhedey, who was 
created Countess Hohen- 
stein, and their son is the 
Duke of Teck, whose 
daughter will be our future Queen. 

The latter married in 1851 Julie Countess 
ot Hanke, who was created Princess of 

-njNi„ii alkxamjilk ok h.-\ itkn nth*.,. 
From rt Photograph. 

C'OUHTE^ii HAHTF-N A\J t WtFB Of- FKlNtllf: 


FniBi a. Phuto. by L. Bttde, Grtu* 


Battenberg, and had four sons and one 
daughter, all of whom are or were well known 
in England* The most brilliant of the 
brothers was no doubt 
Alexander, for some time 
reigning Prince of Bulgaria. 
He aspired to the hand of 
one of the charming sisters 
of the present Emperor of 
Germany, but the affair 
having fallen through, he 
retired to Austria, where 
the Emperor gave him the 
command of a regiment, 
and he married an opera- 
singer, who received a 
patent of nobility under 
the name of the Countess 
of Hartenau. The couple 
were, perhaps, the hand- 
somest in Europe and the 
early death of the gallant 
Prince was universally re- 
gretted. The Countess, his 
widow, still lives at Graz t in 
Styria, the last home of the 
loving and popular pair. 
The Italian Court has also had its romances. 
The mother of the present Queen of Italy 
was banished from the kingdom for ten years 
by her brother-in-law, King Victor Eman- 
nuel, for having eloped with an artillery 
officer. This match did 
not turn out a happy one, 
for the officer eventually 
tired of his Royal wife and 
committed suicide. It is 
a strange coincidence that 
the same King who dis- 
played such rigour with his 
relative entered himself 
some years afterwards into 
a morganatic alliance with 
a vivandifere, who survives 

A marriage which occa- 
sioned great interest in 
England, where it took 
place, was that of Oscar 
Carl August, Prince Ber- 
nadotte, formerly Duke of 
Gothland, the second son 
of King Oscar II. of 
Sweden and Norway. He 
married in 1S88, at 
Bournemouth, Miss Efaba 
Munk, lady-in-waiting to the Swedish Crown 
Princess. Miss Munk was the guest of Lady 
CairnSj and the wedding took place from her 
Original from 






From a Photo* by Ftornwa* Stockholm. 

house, Prince Oscar had to resign all rights 
of succession to the Swedish throne for him- 
self and his descendants. The five children 
of this romantic union have been granted a 
patent of nobility as Counts and Countesses 
of Wiborg in Gothland, Prince Bernadotte 
is commander in the Swedish navy, and lives 
with his family a very retired life, residing 
during winter in a villa at Stockholm, and 
in summer at the "Villa Fridhem " (Home 
of Peace). Both the Prince and Princess 
Bernadotte are extremely religious, and when 
the former is not on duty he and his wife are 
engaged in preaching and missionary work, 
both in Stockholm and in the country. 


From a Photo* btr Ftorman, Stockholm. 

In Bavaria we have an instance of a Royal 
Prince having made two morganatic marriages. 
Prince Ludwig, the elder brother of the 
Royal oculistj Duke Carl Theodor, married 
first in 1859 an actress, Fraulein Mendel, who 
was created Baroness Wallersec, and, after 
her death in 1891, Fraulein Barth, who was 
given a patent of nobility under the style and 
title of Frau von Bartholf. He had before 
marrying also to resign his rights and patri- 
mony to his younger brother* By his first 
wife he had a daughter who married Count 
Larisch, who obtained a divorce from her. 
A short time ago the Countess Larisch 
became the wife of the opera-singer Brucks, 

From a Photo, by Uuumann, Munich. 

3 y Google 

Frmn a Photo, bv Marx t Frankfurt 





From a Photo, by DUtitwr, Munich* 

The eldest daughter of Duke Carl Theodor, 
Princess Sophia of Bavaria, made also a pure 
love-match by marrying last year the Count 
Torring-Jettenhael^ a scion of an old Bavarian 
noble house, but not of Royal blood. 

A few years ago another young Bavarian 
Princess entered into an alliance which was 
not only romantic, but brought great grief to 
her parents and grandparents. Princess 


From & Fhoto. hjf Mailer, Munich. 

Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of Prince 
Leopold and the Archduchess Gisela, eldest 
child of the Emperor of Austria and the 
murdered Empress Elizabeth, ran away with 
the young Lieutenant Baron Otto von See- 
fried zu Buttenheim, and they were married at 
Genoa. The marriage was the more objection- 
able on account of the religion of the bride- 
groom, who is a Protestant, whereas the 


From a Photo, by Shtfkr* Munich. 



From a Phot®. 

ungmaf fi 

&ir Stujlkr, Munich. 


6 4 


Bavarian and Austrian 
families are strict 
Catholics, The alli- 
ance is not a happy 
one. Baron Seefried 
neglects his wife, who 
is now only twenty- 
five years of age, and 
the unfortunate Prin- 
cess, who is deeply 
attached to her hus- 
band, leads a most 
melancholy life. She 
has lost her former 
rights, and has only 
gained a negligent 

In looking into the 
matter closely we must 
come to the conclu- 
sion that the number 
of morganatic mar- 
riages made by 
members of Royal Families increases year 
by year, and many are the Princes and Prin- 
cesses who Lire ready to sacrifice Iheir Royal 
prerogatives in order to try if they cannot 
find real happiness in a simpler home— life 
with the woman or man they love. Whether 
it is more likely for them to draw a prize in 
the marriage lottery by deviating from the 
rule we can scarcely judge, but certain it is 
that some of these marriages have turned 
out extremely happy ones. No doubt it is 
very difficult for a Princess to accustom her- 
self to lead the life of a simple gentlewoman, 
and, in consequence, after the first passion 
has cooled off, the Prin- 
cess is frequently much 
disappointed. The hus- 
band can also hardly be 
expected to maintain 
the deference after mar- 
riage towards his wife 
who has descended from 
her position in order to 
marry him, which fact 
makes the position for 
both extremely difficult. 
It is a much simpler 
matter for a Prince to 


FTOftn a Pta»(o, hjf iHttmdn, Munich, 

make a morganatic 
marriage, as he raises 
the lady of his choice 
to a higher position, 
for she is generally 
given a title if she is 
not already noble. We 
should therefore think 
that the morganatic 
marriages made by 
Princes are more often 
successful than those 
made by Princesses. 
That the institution of 
M morganatic JJ mar- 
riages could be justi- 
fied by logic is, of 
course, out of the 
question ; it can only 
be considered as a 
relic of feudal times, 
when the divine right 
of Kings was looked 
upon as actually existing. 

The Princess Sybilla of Hesse-Cassel, who 
was married a year ago to Herr von Fin eke, 
is a remarkably beautiful girl, and she also 
possesses a considerable fortune, while Herr 
von Fincke is also possessed of moderate 
means, and it seems as if this marriage were 
a very happy one. 

Princess Henrietta of Schle&wig-Holstein 
leads a very contented life with her mor- 
ganatic husband. The Princess Henrietta, 
having entirely given up all pretensions to 
Royal rank, lives the extremely simple life of 
a professor's wife at Kiel. 

The instances we 
have here recited by no 
means exhaust the sub- 
ject. However, we have 
selected the most promi- 
nent ones, and such as 
are of a particularly 
romantic nature. What 
a wealth of material the 
details of these mesalli- 
ances would afford the 
novelist could he only 
become fully acquainted 
with them ! 


Frvftn a Photo, bp iMtma>* 7 llunirK 



Original from 

Hilda JVade. 

By Grant Allen. 

EBASTIAN is a great man," 
I said to Hilda Wade, as I 
sat one afternoon over a cup 
of tea she had brewed for 
me in her own little sitting- 
room : it is one of the alle- 
viations of an hospital doctors lot that he 
may drink tea now and again with the Sister 
of his ward. " Whatever else you choose to 
think of him, you must at least admit he is a 
very great man." 

I admired our famous Professor, and I 
admired Hilda Wade : 'twas a matter of 
regret to me that my two admirations did 
not seem in return sufficiently to admire one 

"Oh, yes/" Hilda answered* pouring out 
my second cup. "He is a very great man, 
I never denied that. The greatest man, on 
the whole j I think, that I have ever come 

"And he has done splendid work 
for humanity, 3 ' I went on, growing en- 

" Splendid work ! Yes. Splendid ! {Two 
lumps* I believe?) He has done more, I 
admit, for medical science than any other 
man I ever met." 

I gazed at her with" a curious glance. 
" Then why, dear lady, do you keep telling 
me he is cruel ? " I inquired, toasting my 
feet on the fender. " It seems contra- 

She passed me the muffins, and smiled 
her restrained smile. 

" Does the desire to do good to humanity 
in itself imply a benevolent 
disposition ? " she answered, 

" Now you are talk- 
ing paradox. Surely 
if a man works 
all his life long for 
the good of man- 
kind, that shows 
he is devoured by 
sympathy for his 

"And when your 
friend Mr. Bates 
works all his life long 
at observing and 
classifying lady-birds, 
I suppose that shows 

he is devoured by Sympathy for the race of 
beetles ! " 

I laughed at her comical face, she looked 
at me so quizzically. " But then," I objected, 
"the cases are not parallel. Bates kills and 
collects his lady- birds : Sebastian cures and 
benefits humanity," 

Hilda smiled her wise smile once more 
and fingered her apron* "Are the cases so 
different as you suppose ? " she went on, with 
her quick glance* "Is it not partly accident? 
A man of science, you see, early in life takes 
up, half by chance, this, that, or the other 
particular form of study, But what the study 
is in itself, I fancy, does not greatly matter : 
do not mere circumstances as often as not 
determine it ? Surely it is the temperament, 
on the whole* that tells : the temperament 
that is or is not scientific." 

" How do you mean ? You are so 
enigmatic ! " 

"Well, in a family of the scientific tem- 
perament, it seems to me, one brother may 
happen to go in for butterflies— may he 
not ?— and another for geology or for sub- 
marine telegraphs. Now, the man who 
happens to take up butterflies does not make 
a fortune out of his hobby — there is no 
money in butterflies : so we say, accordingly, 
he is an unpractical person, who cares 
nothing for business, and who is only happy 
when he is out in the fields with a net, 
chasing emperors and tortoises he Us, But 






the man who happens to fancy submarine 
telegraphy most likely invents a lot of new 
improvements, takes out dozens of patents, 
finds money flow in upon him as he sits in 
his study, and becomes at last a peer and a 
millionaire : so then we say, what a splendid 
business head he has got, to be sure, and 
how immensely he differs from his poor 
wool-gathering brother, die entomologist, 
who can only invent new ways of hatching 
out wire-worms. Yet all may really depend 
on the first chance direction which led 
one brother as a boy to buy a butterfly- 
net, and sent the .other into the school 
laboratory to dabble with an electric wheel 
and a cheap battery." 

" Then you mean to say it is chance that 
has made Sebastian ? " 

Hilda shook her pretty head. "By no 
means. Don't be so stupid We both know 
Sebastian has a wonderful brain. Whatever 
was the work he undertook with that brain 
in science, he would carry it out consum- 
mately. He is a born thinker. It is like 
this, don't you know." She tried to arrange 
her thoughts. "The particular branch of 
science to which Mr. Hiram Maxim's mind 
happens to have been directed was the 
making of machine-guns — and he slays his 
thousands. The particular branch to. which 
Sebastian's mind happens to have been 
directed was medicine — and he cures as 
many as Mr. Maxim kills. It is a turn of 
the hand that makes all the difference. 7 ' 

" I see," I said. " The aim of medicine 
happens to be a benevolent ofte." 

" Quite so ; that's just what I mean. The 
aim is benevolent: and Sebastian pursues 
that aim with the single-minded energy of a 
lofty, gifted, and devoted nature — but not a 
good one." 

"Not good?" 

" Oh, no. To be quite fiank, he seems to 
me to pursue it ruthlessly, cruelly, unscrupu- 
lously. He is a man of high ideals, but 
without principle. In that respect he reminds 
one of the great spirits of the Italian Renais- 
sance — Benvenuto Cellini and so forth — men 
who could pore for hours with conscientious 
artistic care over the detail of a hem in a 
sculptured robe, yet could steal out in the 
midst of their disinterested toil, to plunge a 
knife in the back of a rival" 

"Sebastian would not do that,* I cried. 
" He is wholly free from the mean spirit of 

" No, Sebastian would not do that - You 
are quite right there : there is no tinge of 
meanness in the man's nature. He likes to 

by L^OOgle 

be first in the field : but he would acclaim 
with delight another man's scientific triumph 
— if another anticipated him — for would it 
not mean a triumph far universal science ? — 
and is not the advancement of science 
Sebastian's religion? But .... he would 
do almost as much — or more. He would 
stab a man without remorse, if he thought 
that by stabling him he could advance 

I recognised at once the truth of her 
diagnosis. "Nurse Wade," I cried, "you 
are a wonderful woman 1 I believe you are 
right ; but — how did you come to think of 

A cloud passed over her brow. " I have 
reason to know it," she answered, slowly. 
Then her voice changed. "Take another 

I helped myself and paused. I laid down 
my cup and gazed at her. What a beautiful, 
tender, sympathetic face 1 And yet, how able ! 
She stirred the fire uneasily. I looked and 
hesitated. I had often wondered why I never 
dared ask Hilda Wade one question that was 
nearest my heart. I think it must have been 
because I respected her so profoundly. The 
deeper your admiration and respect for a 
woman, the harder you find it in the end to 
gsk hen At last I almost made up my mind. 
" I cannot think," I began, " what can have 
induced a girl like you, with means and 
friends, with brains and " —I drew back, th<fp 
I {dumped it out — " beauty, to take to such 
a life as this — a life which seems, in many 
ways, so unworthy of you ! " 

She stirred the fire more pensively than 
ever, and re-arranged the muffin-dish on the 
little wrought-irpn stand in front of the grate. 
" And yet," she murmured, looking down, 
" what life can be better than the service of 
one's kind ? You think it a great life, for 

"Sebastian! He is a man. That is 
different, quite different But a woman ! 
especially you, dear lady, for whom one feels 
that nothing is quite high enough, quite pure 
enough, quite good enough : I cannot imagine 
how " 

She checked me with one wave of her 
gracious hand. Her movements were always 
stow and dignified. " I have a Plan in my 
life," she answered earnestly, her eyes meeting 
mine with a sincere, frank gaze ; " a Plan to 
which d have resolved to sacrifice everything* 
It absorbs my being. Till that Plan is 

fulfilled " I saw the tears were gathering 

fast on her lashes. She suppressed them 
with an effort. " Say no more," she added, 




faltering, " Infirm of purpose, I will not 

I leant forward eagerly t pressing my ad- 
vantage. The air was electric- Waves of 
emotion passed to and fro. " But surely, J1 I 
cried, " you do not mean to say " 

She waved me aside once more, "I will 
not put my hand to the plough, and then 
look back," she answered firmly. " Dr. Cum- 
berledge, spare me. I came to Nathaniel's 
for a purpose. I told you at the time what 
that purpose was — in part : to be near 
Sebastian. I want to be near him , . . for 
an object I have at heart. Do not ask me to 
reveal it: do not ask me to forego it. I am 
a woman , therefore weak. But I need your 
aid. Help me, instead of hindering me," 

"Hilda," 1 cried, leaning forward, with 
quiverings of my heart, " I will help you in 
whatever way you will allow me. But let me 
at any rate help you with the feeling that I 
am helping one who means in time — — " 

At that moment, as unkindly fate would 
have it, the door opened, and Sebastian 

" Nurse Wade/' he began, in his iron 
voire, glancing about him with stern eyes, 




" where are those needles I ordered for that 
operation ? We must be ready in time before 
Nielsen comes. . « . Cumberledge, I shall 
want you/ 1 

The golden opportunity had come and 
gone. It was long before I found a similar 
occasion for speaking to Hilda. 

Every day after that the feeling deepened 
upon me that Hilda was there to watch 
Sebastian, Why\ I did not know : but it was 
growing certain that a life-long duel was in 
progress between those two — a duel of some 
strange and mysterious import. 

The first approach to a solution of the 
problem which I obtained, came a week or 
two later. Sebastian was engaged in observ- 
ing a case where certain unusual symptoms 
had suddenly supervened : it was a case of 
some obscure affection of the heart : I will 
not trouble you here with the particular 
details : we all suspected a tendency to 
aneurism. Hilda Wade was in attendance, 
as she always was on Sebastian's observation 
cases. We crowded round, watching. The 
Professor himself leaned over the cot with 
some medicine for external application in a 
basin. He gave it to Hilda to hold. I 

noticed that as she 
held it her fingers 
trembled, and that 
her eyes were fixed 
harder than ever 
upon Sebastian. 
He turned round 
to his students. 
"Now, this," he 
began in a very un- 
concerned voice, 
as if the patient 
were a toad, u is a 
most unwonted 
turn for the disease 
to take. It occurs 
very seldom. In 
point of fact, I 
have only observed 
the symptom once 
before ; and then 
it was fetal. The 
patient in that 
instance " — he 
paused dramatic- 
ally — " was the 
notorious poisoner, 
Dr. Yorke- Ban ner- 

- ■ As he uttered 
the words, Hilda 
Wade's hands 

Original from 



trembled more than ever, and with a 
little scream she let the basin fall, breaking 
it into fragments, 

Sebastian^ keen eyes had transfixed her 
in a second. a How did you manage to do 

the tendency before : and that case was the 
notorious" he kept his glittering eyes fixed 
harder on Hilda than ever — " the notorious 
L>r. Yorke-Kanncrmiln. ^, 
/ was watching Hilda, too* At the words, 


that ? " he asked, with quiet sarcasm, but in 
a tone full of meaning. 

"The basin was heavy," Hilda faltered, 
" My hands were trembling — and it somehow 
slipped through them. I am not « . . « 
quite myself . . . . not quite well this after- 
noon, I ought not to have attempted it." 

The Professors deep-set eyes peered out 
like gleaming lights from beneath their over- 
hanging brows. "No, you ought not to 
have attempted it," he answered, withering 
her with his glance. "You might have let 
the thing fall on the patient and killed nim. 
As it is, can't you see you have agitated him 
with the flurry ? Don't stand there holding 
your breath, woman : repair your mischief : 
get a cloth and wipe it up, and give me the 

With skilful haste he administered a little 
sal volatile and nux vomica to the swooning 
patient ; while Hilda set about remedying 
the damage, " That's better," Sebastian said, 
in a mollified tone, when she had brought 
another basin. There was a singular note 
of cloaked triumph in his voice. ** Now, 
we'll begin again. .... I was just saying, 
gentlemen, before this accident, that I had 
seen only one case of this peculiar form of 

by Google 

she trembled violently all over unce more, 
but with an effort restrained herself. Their 
looks met in a searching glance, Hilda's air 
was proud and fearless : in Sebastian's, I 
fancied I detected after a second just a tinge 
of wavering. 

" You remember Yorke - Bannermarrs 
case, 5 ' he went on. "He committed a 
murder " 

"Let we take the basin ! " 1 cried, for 1 
saw Hilda's hands giving way a second time, 
and I was anxious to spare her, 

"No, thank you, ?7 she answered low, but 
in a voice that was full of suppressed defiance. 
11 1 will wait and hear this out, 1 prefer to 
stop here/' 

As for Sebastian, he seemed now not to 
notice her, though I was aware all the time 
of a side-long glance of his eye, parrot- 
wise, in her direction, u He committed a 
murder," he went on, " by means of aconitine 
— then an almost unknown poison ; and after 
committing it, his heart being already weak, 
he was taken himself with symptoms of 
aneurism in a curious form, essentially similar 

to these ; so that he died before the trial a 

lucky escape for him." 

He paused rhetorically once more; then 

Original from 



he added in the same tone, " Mental agitation 
and the terror of detection no doubt ac- 
celerated the fatal result in that instance. 
He died at once from the shock of the arrest. 
It was a natural conclusion. Here, we may 
hope for a more successful issue." 

He spoke to the students, of course, but I 
could see for all that that he was keeping his 
falcon eye fixed hard on Hilda's face. I 
glanced aside at her. She never flinched 
for a second. Neither said anything directly 
to the other : still, by their eyes and mouths, I 
knew some strange passage of arms had 
taken place between them. Sebastian's tone 
was one of provocation, of defiance, I might 
almost say of challenge : Hilda's air I took 
rather for the air of calm and resolute, but 
assured, resistance. He expected her to 
answer ; she said nothing. Instead of that, 
she went on holding the basin now with 
fingers that would not tremble. Every 
muscle was strained. Every tendon was 
strung. I could see she held herself in with 
a will of iron. 

The rest of the episode passed off quietly. 
Sebastian, having delivered his bolt, began to 
think less of Hilda and more of the patient. 
He went on with his demonstration. As for 
Hilda, she gradually relaxed her muscles, 
and, with a deep-drawn breath, resumed her 
natural attitude. The tension was over. 
They had had their little skirmish, whatever 
it might mean, and had it out : now, they 
called a truce over the patient's body. 

When the case had been disposed of, and 
the students dismissed, I went straight into 
the laboratory to get a few surgical instru- 
ments I had chanced to leave there. For a 
minute or two I mislaid my clinical thermo- 
meter, and began hunting for it behind a 
wooden partition in the corner of the room 
by the place for washing test-tubes. As I 
stooped down, turning over the various 
objects about the tap in my search, Sebastian's 
voice came to me. He had paused outside 
the door, and was speaking in his calm, clear 
1 tone, very low, to Hilda. " So now we 
understand one another, Nurse Wade," he 
said, with a significant sneer. " I know 
whom I have to deal with ! " 

44 And / know too," Hilda answered, in a 
voice of placid confidence. 

" Yet you are not afraid ? " 

" It is not / who have cause for fear. The 
accused may tremble, not the prosecutor." 

"What? You threaten?" 

"No; I do not threaten. Not in words, I 
mean. My presence here is in itself a threat, 
but I make no other. You know now, un- 

by Google 

fortunately, why I have come. That makes 
my task harder. But I will not give it up. 
I will wait and conquer." 

Sebastian answered nothing. He strode 
into the laboratory alone, tall, grim, un- 
bending, and let himself sink into his easy 
chair, looking up with a singular and some- 
what sinister smile at his bottles of microbes. 
After a minute he stirred the fire, and bent 
his head forward, brooding. He held it 
between his hands, with his elbows on his 
knees, and gazed moodily straight before him 
into the glowing caves of white-hot coal in 
the fire-place. That sinister smile still played 
lambent round the corners of his grizzled 

I moved noiselessly towards the door, try- 
ing to pass behind him unnoticed. But, alert 
as ever, his quick ears detected me. With a 
sudden start, he raised his head and glanced 
round " What ! you here ? " he cried, taken 
aback. For a second he appeared almost to 
lose his self-possession. 

" I came for my clinical," I answered, with 
an unconcerned air. " I have somehow 
managed to mislay it in the laboratory." 

My carefully casual tone seemed to re- 
assure him. He peered about him with knit 
brows. " Cumberledge," he asked at last, 
in a suspicious voice, " did you hear that 
woman ? " 

" The woman in 93 ? Delirious ? n 

"No, no: Nurse Wade?" 

" Hear her ? " I echoed, I must candidly 
admit with intent to deceive. " When she 
broke the basin ? " 

His forehead relaxed. ."Oh, it is nothing," 
he muttered, hastily. "A mere point of 
. discipline. She spoke to me just now, and 
I thought her tone unbecoming in a sub- 
ordinate Like Korah and his crew, 

she takes too much upon her We 

must get rid of her, Cumberledge : we must 
get rid of her. She is a dangerous woman ! " 

" She is the most intelligent nurse we have 
ever had in the place, sir," I objected, stoutly. 

He nodded his head twice. " Intelligent — 
je vous Caccorde; but dangerous — dangerous ! " 

Then he turned to his papers, sorting them 
out one by one with a preoccupied face and 
twitching fingers. I recognised that he 
desired to be left alone, so I quitted the 

I cannot quite say why, but ever since 
Hilda Wade first came to Nathaniel's, my 
enthusiasm for Sebastian had been cooling 
continuously. Admiring his greatness 'still, 
I had doubts as to his goodness. That day 
I felt I positively mistrusted him. I wondered 


7 o 


m '7: m/fy 


what his passage of arms with Hilda might 
mean. Yet, somehow, I was shy of alluding 
to it before her. 

One thing, however, was clear to me now 
— this great campaign that was bung 
waged between the nurse and the Professor 
had reference to the case of I>r, Yorke- 

For a time, nothing came of it : the routine 
of the hospital went on as usual. The 
patient with the suspected predisposition to 
aneurism kept fairly well for a week or two, 
and then took a sudden turn for the worse, 
presenting at times most unwonted symptoms. 
He died unexpectedly. Sebastian, who had 
watched him every hour; regarded the matter 
as of prime importance* "I'm glad it hap- 
pened here," lie said, rubbing his hands. "A 
grand opportunity. I wanted to catch an 
instance like this before that fellow in Paris 
had time to anticipate me. They're all on 
the look-out. Von StrahlendorflT, of Vienna, 
has been waiting for just such a patient for 
years. So have L Now, fortune has favoured 
me. Lucky for us he died ! We shall find 
out everything." 

We held a post-mortem, of course, the 
condition of the blood being what we most 
wished to observe ; and the autopsy revealed 
some unexpected details. One remarkable 
feature consisted in a certain undescribed and 

by Google 

im poveri shed 
state of the con- 
tained bodies, 
which Sebastian, 
with his eager zeal 
for science* desired 
his students to see 
and identify. He 
said it was likely 
to throw much 
light on other ill- 
understood condi- 
tions of the brain 
and nervous 
system* as well as 
on the peculiar 
faint odour of the 
insane, now so 
well recognised in 
all large asylums. 
In order to com- 
pare this abnormal 
state with the 
aspect of the 
healthy circulating 
medium^ he pro- 
posed to examine 
a little good living 
blood side by side with the morbid specimen 
under the microscope. Nurse Wade was in 
attendance in the laboratory as usual The 
Professor, standing by the instrument, with 
one hand on the brass screw, had got the 
diseased drop ready arranged for our inspec- 
tion beforehand, and was gloating over it 
himself with scientific enthusiasm. "Grey 
corpuscles, you will observe/' he said, 
"almost entirely deficient. Red, poor in 
number, and irregular in outline* Plasma, 
thin. Nuclei* feeble, A state of body 
which tells severely against the due re- 
building of the wasted tissues. Now, com- 
pare with typical normal specimen/" He 
removed his eye from the microscope, and 
wiped a glass slide with a clean cloth as he 
spoke. "Nurse Wade, we know of old the 
purity and vigour of your circulating fluid* 
You shall have the honour of advancing 
science once more, Hold up your finger." 

Hilda held up her forefinger unhesitatingly. 
She was used to such requests : and, indeed, 
Sebastian had acquired by long experience 
the faculty of pinching the finger-tip so hard, 
and pressing the point of a needle so dex- 
terously into a minor vessel, that he could 
draw at once a small drop of blood without 
the subject even feeling it. 

The Professor nipped the last joint between 
his finger and thumb for a moment till it 

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was black at the end : then he turned to the 
saucer at his side, which Hilda herself had 
placed there, and chose from it, cat-like, 
with great deliberation and selective care, a 
particular needle. Hilda's eyes followed his 
every movement as closely and as. fearlessly 
as ever. Sebastian's hand was raised, and 
he was just about to pierce the delicate white 
skin, when, with a sudden, quick scream of 
terror, she snatched her hand away. hastily. 

The Professor let the needle drop in his 
astonishment . " What did you do that for ? " 
he cried, with an angry dart of the keen eyes, 
" This is not the first time I have drawn 
your blood You knew I would not hurt 
you." ■; . 

Hilda's face had grown strangely pale. 
But that was not all. I believe I was the 
only person present who noticed one unob- 
trusive piece of sleight-of-hand which she 
hurriedly and skilfully executed. When the 
needle slipped from Sebastian's hand, she 
leant forward even as she screamed, and 
caught it, unobserved, in the folds of her 
apron. Then her nimble fingers closed over 
it as if by magic, and conveyed it with a 
rapid movement at once to her pocket. I 
do not think even Sebastian himself noticed 
the quick forward jerk of her eager hands, 
which would have done honour to a conjurer. 
He was too much taken aback by her un- 
expected behaviour to observe the needle. 

Just as she caught it Hilda answered his 
question in a somewhat flurried voice. " I — 
I was afraid," she broke out, gasping. " One 
gets these litde accesses of terror now and 
again. I — I feel rather weak. I don't think 
I will volunteer to supply any more normal 
blood this morning." 

Sebastian's acute eyes read her through, 
as so often. With a trenchant dart he glanced 
from her to me. I could see he began to 
suspect a confederacy. "That will do," he 
went on, with slow deliberateness. " Better 
so. Nurse Wade, I don't know what's be- 
ginning to come over you. You are losing 
your nerve — which is fatal in a nurse. Only 
the other day you let fall and broke a basin 
at a most critical moment; and now, you 
scream aloud on a trifling apprehension." 
He paused and glanced around him. " Mr. 
Callaghan," he said, turning to our tall, red- 
haired Irish student, "your blood is good 
normal : and you are not hysterical." He 
selected another needle with studious care. 
" Give me your finger." 

As he picked out the needle, I saw Hilda 
lean forward again, alert and watchful, eyeing 
him with a piercing glance; but, after a 

by K: 



second's consideration, she seemed to satisfy 
herself and fell back without a word. I 
gathered that she was ready to interfere, had 
occasion demanded. But occasion did not 
demand : and she held her peace quietly. 

The rest of the examination proceeded 
without a hitch. For a minute or two, it is 
true, I fancied that Sebastian betrayed a 
certain suppressed agitation — a trifling lack 
of his accustomed perspicuity and his lumin- 
ous exposition. But after meandering for a 
while, through a few vague sentences, he soon 
recovered his wonted calm ; and as he went 
on with his demonstration, throwing himself 
eagerly into the case, his usual scientific 
enthusiasm came back to him undiminished. 
He waxed eloquent (after his fashion) over 
the " beautiful " contrast between Callaghan's 
wholesome blood, "rich in the vivifying 
architectonic grey corpuscles which rebuild 
worn tissues," and the effete, impoverished, 
unvitalized fluid which stagnated in the 
sluggish veins of the dead patient. The 
carriers of oxygen had neglected their proper 
task : the granules whose duty it was to bring 
elaborated food-stuffs to supply the waste of 
brain and nerve and muscle had forgotten 
their cunning. The bricklayers of the bodily 
fabric had gone out on strike : the weary 
scavengers had declined to remove the useless 
by-products. His vivid tongue, his picturesque 
fancy, ran away with him. I had never heard 
him talk better or more incisively . before ; 
one could feel sure as he spoke that the 
arteries of his own acute and teeming brain 
at that moment of exaltation were by no 
means deficient in those energetic and highly 
vital globules on whose reparative worth he 
so eloquently descanted. u Sure, the Professor 
makes annywan see right inside wan's own 
vascular system," Callaghan whispered aside 
to me, in unfeigned admiration. 

The demonstration ended in impressive 
silence. As we streamed out of the labora- 
tory, aglow with his electric fire, Sebastian 
held me back with a bent motion of his 
shrivelled forefinger. I stayed behind un- 
willingly. " Yes, sir? " I said, in an interro- 
gative voice. 

The Professor s eyes were fixed intently on 
the ceiling. His look was one of rapt inspi- 
ration. I stood and waited. " Cumberledge," 
he said at last, coming back to earth with a 
start, " I see it more plainly each day that 
goes. We must get rid of that woman.'* 

" Of Nurse Wade ? " I asked, catching my 

He roped the grizzled moustache and 
blinked the sunken eyes. " She has lost 


7 2 


nerve," he went on. ** Lost nerve entirely. 
I shall suggest that she be dismissed. Her 
sudden failures of stamina are most embar- 
rassing at critical junctures," 

u Very well, sir," I answered, swallowing a 
lump in my throat. To say the truth, I was 
beginning to be afraid on Hilda's account 
That morning's events had thoroughly dis- 
quieted me. 

He seemed relieved at my unquestioning 
acquiescence. "She is a dangerous edged- 
tool, that's the truth of it," he went on, still 
twirling his moustache with a preoccupied 
air, and turning over his stock of needles. 
" When she's clothed and in her right mind, 
she is a valuable accessory — shaqj and tren- 
chant like a clean, bright lancet : but when 
she allows one of these causeless hysterical 
fits to override her tone, she plays one false 
at once- like a lancet that slips, or grows 
dull and rusty." He polished one of the 
needles on a soft square of new chamois- 
leather while he spoke, as if to give point 
and illustration to his simile, 

I went out from him, much perturbed. 
The Sebastian I had once admired and 
worshipped was beginning to pass from me: 
in his place I found a very complex and 
inferior creation. My idol had feet of clay, 
I was loth to acknowledge it, 

I stalked along the corridor moodily to- 
wards my own room. As I passed Hilda 
Wade's door I saw it half ajar, 
little within and beckoned 
me to enter. 

I passed in and closed 
the door behind me. Hilda 
looked at me with trustful 
eyes. Resolute still, her 
face was yet that of a 
hunted creature, "Thank 
Heaven I have one friend 
here at least," she said, 
slowly, seating herself. 
"You saw me catch and 
conceal the needle ? " 

" Yes, I saw you," 

She drew it forth from 
her purse, carefully but 
loosely wrapped up in a 
small tag of tissue-paper. 
*' Here it is ! " she said, 
displaying it, " Now, I 
want you to test it." 

"In a culture ? ! ' I asked, 
for I guessed her meaning. 

She nodded. "Yes, to 
see what that man has 
done to it." 

She stood a 

" What do you suspect ? " 

She shrugged her graceful shoulders half 
imperceptibly, " How should I know ? 
Anything ! " 

I gazed at the needle close. " What made 
you distrust it?" I inquired at last, still 
eyeing it. 

She opened a drawer and took out several 
others. "See here," she said, handing me 
one : " these are the needles I keep in anti- 
septic wool— the needles with which I always 
supply the Professor. You observe their 
shape — t h e co m mon surgical patterns. Now, 
look at this needle with which the Professor 
.was just going to prick my finger ! You can 
see for yourself at once it is of bluer steel 
and of a different manufacture." 

"That is quite true," I answered* examin- 
ing it with my pocket lens, which I always 
carry, H I see the difference. But how did 
you delect it ? " 

" From his face, partly, but partly, too s 
from the needle itself. I had my suspicions, 
and I was watching him close. Just as he 
raised the thing in his hand, half concealing 
it, so, and showing only the point, I caught 
the blue gleam of the steel as the light 
glanced off it. It was not the kind I knew. 
Then I withdrew my hand at once, feeling 
sure he meant mischief." 

".That was wonderfully quick of you ! " 

" Quick ? Well, yes. Thank Heaven, my 
mind works fast: my perceptions are rapid. 


by Google 

Original from 



Otherwise " she looked grave. " One 

second more, and it would have been too 
late. The man might have killed me." 

" You think it is poisoned, then ? " 

Hilda shook her head with confident 
dissent. " Poisoned ? Oh, no. He is 
wiser now. Fifteen years ago, he used 
poison. But science has made gigantic 
strides since then. He would not needlessly 
expose himself to-day to the risks of the 

" Fifteen years ago he used poison ! " 

She nodded with the air of one who knows. 
" I am not speaking at random," she an- 
swered. " I say what I know. Some day I 
will explain. For the present, it is enough to 
tell you, I know it." 

"And what do you suspect now?" I 
asked, the weird sense of her strange power 
deepening on me every second. 

She held up the incriminated needle again. 
" Do you see this groove ? " she asked, point- 
ing to it with the tip of another. 

I examined it once more at the light with 
the lens. A longitudinal groove, apparently 
ground into one side of the needle, length- 
wise, by means of a small grinding-stone and 
emery powder, ran for a quarter of an inch 
above the point. This groove seemed to me 
to have been produced by an amateur, though 
he must have been one accustomed to deli- 
cate microscopic manipulation : for the edges 
under the lens showed slightly rough, like 
the surface of a file on a small scale, not 
smooth and polished as a needle-maker 
would have left them. I said so to 

"You are quite right," she answered. 
"That is just what it shows. I feel sure 
Sebastian made that groove himself. He 
could have bought grooved needles, it is true, 
such as they sometimes use for retaining 
small quantities of lymphs and medicines, 
but we had none in stock, and to buy them 
would be to manufacture evidence against 
himself, in case of detection. Besides, the 
rough jagged edge would hold the material 
he wished to inject all the better, while its 
saw - like points would tear the flesh, 
imperceptibly but minutely, and so serve his 

"Which was?" 

"Try the needle, and judge for yourself. 
I prefer you should find out. You can tell 
me to-morrow." 

"It was quick of you to detect it !" I 
cried, still turning the suspicious object over. 
"The difference is so slight." 

" Yes ; but you tell me my eyes are as 

sharp as the needle. Besides, I had reason 
to doubt, and Sebastian himself gave me the 
clue by selecting his instrument with too 
great deliberation. He had put it there with 
the rest, but it lay a little apart : and as he 
picked it up, gingerly, I began to doubt. 
When I saw the blue gleam, my doubt was 
at once converted into certainty. Then his 
eyes, too, had the look which I know means 
victory. Benign or baleful, it goes with his 
triumphs. I have seen that look before, 
and when once it lurks scintillating in the 
luminous depths of his gleaming eyeballs, I 
recognise at once that, whatever his aim, he 
has succeeded in it." 

" Still, Hilda, I am loth " , 

She waved her hand impatiently. " Waste 
no time," she cried, in an authoritative voice. 
" If you happen to let that needle rub care- 
lessly against the sleeve of your coat, you 
may destroy the evidence. Take it at once 
to your room, plunge it into a culture, and 
lock it up safe at a proper temperature where 
Sebastian cannot get at it — till the conse- 
quences develop." 

I did as she bid me. By this time, I was 
not wholly unprepared for the result she 
anticipated. My belief in Sebastian had 
sunk to zero, and was rapidly reaching a 
negative quantity. 

At nine the next morning, I tested one 
drop of the culture under the microscope. 
Clear and limpid to the naked eye, it was 
alive with small objects of a most suspicious 
nature, when properly magnified. I knew 
those hungry forms. Still, I would not 
decide off-hand on my own authority in a 
matter of such moment. Sebastian's character 
was at stake — the character of the man who 
led the profession. I called in Callaghan, 
who happened to be in the ward, and asked 
him to put his eye to the instrument for a 
moment. He was a splendid fellow for the 
use of high powers, and I had magnified the 
culture 300 diameters. " What do you call 
those ? " I asked, breathless. 

He scanned them carefully with his experi- 
enced eye. " Is it the microbes ye mean ? " 
he answered. " An 7 what 'ud they be, then, 
if it wasn't the bacillus of pyaemia ? " 

" Blood-poisoning ! " I ejaculated, horror- 

" Aye : blood-poisoning : that's the English 
of it." 

I assumed an air of indifference. " I 

'made them that myself," I rejoined, as if 

they were mere ordinary experimental germs : 

"but I wanted confirmation of my own 

opinion. You're sure of the bacillus ? " 

iiii 1 1 ■-• 1 1 1 




" An' haven't I been keeping swarms of 
those very same bacteria under close obser- 
vation for Sebastian for seven weeks past ? 
Why, I know them as well as I know me 
own mother." 

"Thank you," I said "That will do, f] 


And I carried off the microscope, bacilli and 
all, into Hilda \Vade 1 s sitting-room, " Look 
yourself ! " I cried to her, 

She stared at them through the instrument 
with an unmoved face. " I thought so," she 
answered shortly, "The bacillus of pyaemia. 
A most virulent type. Exactly what I ex- 

" Vou anticipated that result ?" 

" Absolutely. You see, blood-poisoning 
matures quick, and kills almost to a certainty. 
Delirium supervenes so soon that the patient 
has no chance of explaining suspicions. 
Besides, it w^ould all seem so very natural : 
Everybody would say, * She got some slight 
wound, which microbes from some case she 
was attending contaminated.' You may be 
sure Sebastian thought out all that. He 
plans with consummate skill He had designed 

I gazed at her, uncertain, "And what will 
vou do t" I asked. " Expose him ? " 

Digitized by LiOOQ I C 

She opened both her palms with a blank 
gesture of helplessness. "It is useless," she 
answered, " Nobody would believe me. 
Consider the situation. You know the needle 
I gave you was the one Sebastian meant to 
use — the one he dropped and I caught — 
because you are a friend 
of mine, and because 
you have learned to 
trust me. But who else 
would credit it ? I 
have only my word 
against his — an un- 
known nurse's against 
the great Professors. 
Ever) body would say I 
was malicious or 
hysterical. Hysteria is 
always an easy stone to 
fling at an injured 
woman who asks for 
justice. They would 
declare I had trumped 
up the case to forestall 
my dismissal They 
would set it down to 
spite. We can do no- 
thing against him. 
Remember, on his part, 
the utter absence oi~ 
overt motive*" 

" And you mean to 
stop on here, in close 
attendance on a man 
who has attempted your 
life ? ™ I cried, really 
alarmed for her safety. 
"I am not sure about that," she answered. 
" I must take time to think. My presence 
at Nathaniel's was necessary to my Plan, 
The Plan fails for the present 1 have now 
to look round and reconsider my position.'' 

" But you are not safe here now/' I urged, 
growing warm. "If Sebastian really wishes 
to get rid of you, and is as unscrupulous as 
you suppose, with his gigantic brain he can 
soon compass his end. What he plans he 
executes. You ought not to remain within 
the Professors reach one hour longer/' 

" I have thought of that too/' she replied, 
with an almost unearthly calm. "But there 
are difficulties either way. At any rate, I am 
glad he did not succeed this time. For to 
have killed me now would have frustrated my 
Plan. And my Plan ? ' she clasped her 
hands — " my Plan is ten thousand times 
dearer than life to me." 

" Dear lady T " I cried, drawing a deep 
breath, " I implore you in this strait, listen to 




what I urge. Why fight your battle alone ? 
Why refuse assistance ? I have admired you 
so long — I am so eager to help you* If only 

you will allow me to call you * 

Her eyes brightened and softened Her 
whole bosom heaved. I felt in a flash she 
was not wholly indifferent to me. Strange 
tremors in the air seemed to play about us. 
But she waved me aside once more. u Don't 
press me," she said, in a very low voice. 
" Let me go my own way. It is hard enough 


already, this task 1 have undertaken, without 

your making it harder Dear friend, 

dear friend, you don't quite understand 
There are tivo men at Nathaniel's whom I 
desire to escape — because they both alike 
stand in the way of my purpose/ 3 She took 
my hand in hers. "Each in a different 
way/' she murmured once more. M But 
each I must avoid. One is Sebastian. The 

other " she let my hand drop again and 

broke off suddenly. "Dear Hubert,'* she 
cried, with a catch, " I cannot help it : for- 
give me ! " 

It was the first time she had ever called 
me by my Christian name. The mere sound 
of the word made me unspeakably happy. 

Yet she waved me away. ** Must I go ? * 
I asked, quivering, 

"Yes, yes, you must go, I cannot stand 


it. I must think this thing out, undisturbed. 
It is a very great crisis." 

That afternoon and evening, by some un- 
happy chance, I waft fully engaged in work at 
the hospital Late at night, a letter arrived 
for me. I glanced at it in dismay. It bore 
the Basingstoke post-mark. But to my alarm 
and surprise, it was in Hilda's hand- What 
could this change portend? I opened it, all 

"Dear Hubert "I gave a sigh of 

relief. It was no longer " Dear 
Dr. Cumberledge J? now, but 
" Hubert." That was something 
gained, at any rate* I read on 
with a beating heart. What 
had Hilda to say to me? 

" Dear Hubert, — By the time 
this reaches you, I shall be far 
away, irrevocably far, from 
London. With deep regret, with 
fierce searchtngs of spirit, I have 
come to the conclusion that, for 
the Purpose I have in view, it 
would be better for me at once 
to leave Nathaniel's. Where I 
go or what I mean to do, I do 
not wish to tell you. Of your 
charity, I pray, refrain from ask- 
ing me* I am aware that your 
kindness and generosity deserve 
better recognition. But, like 
Sebastian himself, I am the slave 
of my Purpose, I have lived 
for it all these years, and it is 
still very dear to me. To tell 
you my plans would interfere with 
that end, Do not, therefore, 
suppose I am insensible to your 
goodness . , . . Dear Hubert, 
I dare not say more, lest I say 
I dare not trust myself. But 
one thing I must say. I am flying from 
you quite as much as from Sebastian. 
Flying from my own heart quite as much 
as from my enemy. Some day, perhaps, 
if I accomplish my object, I may tell you 
all. Meanwhile I can only beg of you of 
your kindness to trust me. We shall not 
meet again, I fear, for years. But I shall 
never forget you — you, the kind counsellor 
who have half turned me aside from my 
life's purpose. One word more and I should 
falter— In very great haste and amid much 
disturbance, yours" ever affectionately and 
gratefully, " Hilda/ 1 

It was a hurried scrawl in pencil, as if 
written in a train. I felt utterly dejected. 
Was Hilda then leaving K n gland ? 


spare me 
too much. 

7 6 


Rousing myself after some minutes, I went 
straight to Sebastian's rooms, and told him 
in brief terras that Nurse Wade had dis- 
appeared at a moment's notice, and had sent 
a note to tell me so. 

He looked up from his work and scanned 
me hard, as was his wont M That is well/' 
he said at last, his eyes glowing deep : 4< she 
was getting too great a hold on you, that 
young woman ! " 

"She retains that hold upon me, sir/' I 
answered, curtly* 

** You are making a grave mistake in life, 
my dear Cumberledge," he went on, in his 
old genial tone, which I had almost for- 
gotten. " Before you go further and entangle 
yourself more deeply, I think it is only right 
that I sJiould undeceive you as tu this girl's 
true position. She is passing under a false 
name, and she comes of a tainted stock. 
.... Nurse Wade, as she chooses to call 
herself, is a daughter of the notorious 
murderer, Yorke- 

My mind leapt 
back to the in- 
cident of the 
broken basin, 
Yorke -Banner- 
man's name had 
profoundly moved 
her. Then I 
thought of Hildas 
face. Murderers, 
I said to myself, 
do not beget such 
daughters as that. 
Not even acci- 
dental murderers 
like my poor 
friend Le Geyt 
I saw at once 
the prima Jack 

evidence was strongly against her. But I 
had faith in her still I drew myself up 
firmly and stared him back full in the 
face, "I do not believe it, 3 * I answered, 

" You do not believe it ? I tell you it is 
so. The girl herself as good as acknowledged 
it to me." 

I spoke slowly and distinctly, "Dr. 
Sebastian,' 5 I said, confronting him, " let u* 
be quite clear with one another. I have 
found you out. I know how you tried 10 
poison that lady. To poison her with 
bacilli which / detected, I cannot trust 
your word : 1 cannot trust your inferences, 
Either she is not Yorke- Ban Herman's daughter 
at all, or else , . . . Yorke-Bannerman was 
not a murderer, . . J* I watched his face 
close. Conviction leaped upon me. " And 
someone else was ? ' J I went on* " I might 
put a name to him." 

With a stem white face, he rose and 

opened the door. 
He pointed to it 
slowly, **This 
hospital is not big 
enough for you 
and me abreast," 
he said with cold 
politeness. "One 
or other of us 
must go. Which, 
I leave it to your 
good sense to 
determine J T 

Even at that 
moment of detec- 
tion and disgrace, 
in one man's eyes 
at least, Sebas- 
tian retained his 
full measure of 


by Google 

Original from 

Animal A dualities. 

NOTE, — These articles tomtit of a series of perfectly authentic anecdotes of am mat tife t illustrated 
by Mr. J. A. Shepherd, an artist long a favourite with readers of The Strand Magazine. IVkik 
the stories themselves are matters of fait, it must be understood that the artist treats the subject 
with freedom and fancjr, more with a view to an amusing commentary than to a mere representation 
of the occurrence. 

I RIP was a very " sad dog "—is so 
now, in fact, unless, ere these 
lines appear in print, he has ex- 
pired in the throes of delirium 
tremens, or encountered the death 
of the outcast drunkard on a bleak doorstep. 
He had good prospects, too, had Grip at one 
time, and might have turned out an orna- 
ment and an honour to the canine race, had 
it not been for his succumbing to the terrible 
temptation of drink, He was a fox-terrier of 
good birth — a dog of pedigree, in fact — and 
Ipswich was his birthplace* In the summer 
of 1894 he came to Bristol a puppy, innocent, 

blinking, and wondering. In the winter of 
the same year he left the town a confirmed 
drunkard, the disgrace and the despair of 
his master and his friends. 

His master was a pupil in the Ashton 
Gate Brewer)', and as soon as Grip was a 
sufficiently grown dog he trotted at his 
master's heels on the way to business. From 
his first entry into the brewery his fall was 
instant and deplorable. Small vessels were 
p laced under the great beer- vats, to collect 
leakage and overflow, and once, in a direful, 
fatal, thirsty moment, Grip took a drink out 
of one of those vessels. At once his fatal 



Original from 





r.oixr. home. 

passion seized him, and that day Grip went 
home drunk. 

It was very shocking, but his muster felt 
that the slip might be excused. Plainly, he 
said, it was a mere vagary of puppyhood 
The poor little chap had been thirsty, and 
had innocently drunk as much as possible of 
the only liquid available. In future it should 
be arranged that 
water be kept in the 
brewery for Grip's 

The water was 
provided accord- 
ingly, but to every- 
body's astonish- 
ment Grip came 
home drunk again 
the next day. His 
friends were more 
shocked than be- 
fore. This time 
they did their best 
to excuse him on 
the ground that he 
had not properly 
distinguished be- 
tween the pan of 
beer and the pan 
of water. But, in- 
deed, he had. And 
from that day forward he never drank water 
when beer was within reach. In fuct T he 
was never wholly soIjlt. He was always 
either drunk, getting'drunk, or making ready 
to get drunk again. Nothing could reform 
him — exhortations, preachings, threats — his 
master tried them all without result, Grip 
listened with a drunken leer and staggered 

off to attempt another debauch, or to sleep 
off the effects of the last, Once, indeed, 
he did display some desire to forsake beer ; 
that is to say, he found an occasion to 
exhibit his preference for whisky and water 
— most of it whisky. But here it was easy 
to cut off the supply, and Grip returned to 
the vat drippings. 

E X Hufil AT I ON S, J*REAC H I N GS , 1 ii KE ATS, 

by Google 

Now as Grip grew a drunker and drunker 
dog, so his temper toward the household cat 
grew worse. Even in his sober days he had 
suspected the cat T s honesty, and had always 
made a point of most ostentatiously counting 
the bones hidden in his sleeping-basket 
whenever the cat came in or out of the 
kitchen. But now he also regarded her as 
Original from 





responsible in some degree for the difficulty 
he experienced in finding his basket, after a 
bout of beer- lees. Every day at noon Grip 
was brought home with more or less difficulty 
by his sorrowful and disgraced master, and 
arriving at his 
destination , he 
fell upon his 
dinner in a 
heap. Regain- 
ing his un- 
steady legs, he 
gobbled his 
food as quickly 
as possible, 
and was imme- 
diately seized 
by a desire for 
bed. The 
basket was in 
mistily found 

until he brought up in the neighbourhood of 
his bed, and was confronted with the pro- 
blem of getting into it. So innumerable 
were the bed-baskets that pranced before his 
beery eyes that he made many vain shots 


kitchen, and, having 
kitchen stairs and 
tumbled down them, he tacked riotously this 
way and that about the kitchen, to the 
intense scandal of the totally abstaining cat, 

sCamjal uf the; Cat, 

without encountering the real thing, and at 
this moment a maniac ambition to stand on 
his head would seize him. Perhaps he had 
a view of proving to the cook and the cat 
that he was not altogether so drunk as he 

* m j^t 

3 y Google 

Original from 





looked ; but at any rate his failure was com- 
plete, sprawling, and ignominious, Having 
failed and having sprawled several times in 
succession, he became convinced that both 



the cook and the cat were drunk — disgrace- 
fully drunk -and responsible between them 
for his inability to land within the basket. 
This spoilt his temper, as we have said. 
In the end he would awake, partially 

sober and wholly unrepentant, and set 
about preparations for another carouse. 
Forcible exclusion from the vat - house 
was tried, and this Grip would artfully 

seek to circumvent 
by conveying to his 
master, or anybody 
else who could un- 
derstand him, the 
information that 
numerous rats 
lurked among the 
barrels, which it 
was Imperatively 
necessary for him 
to catch instantly. 
Once entry was 
gained, however, 
the result was 
the same, t J r i p 
caught no rats t 
but he went home drunk. Till at last 
the attempt to reform Grip in Bristol 
was given up, and he was sorrowfully 
directed back to Ipswich, a mined and a 
drunken dog. 




Original from 

Covent Garden Stars in Their Favourite Roles. 

By Kathlkkn Sghlesinger, 

UBJOSITY >s a trak com- 
monly attributed to the gentler 
sex and to children ; whether 
justly or not, matters little. 
There is»howewr f a certain legi- 
timate curiosity whose motives 
are beyond reproach and of which no one 
need be ashamed, for it is guilty of no indis- 
cretions ; all it seeks is knowledge which it 
intends, according to its lights, to put to a 
good use. 

The British public has ever shown a thirst 
for knowledge where its favourites are con- 
cerned, and is always eager to know every- 
thing about them that will lead to a better 
understanding of their characteristics and 
their work. Therefore, many will be glad of 
a peep behind the veil which conceals that 
elusive thing— an operatic singer's personality 
-for the "singer is placed in a curious 
position, and is valued as an artist according 
to the ease with which he steps out of his 
own individuality and assumes with his 
costumes and pro- 
perties another 
self with different 
passions, likes, 
and dislikes. 

Of course, all 
singers, even to 
the greatest artists 
among them, 
have their fav- 
ourite rdies which 
appeal more par- 
ticularly to their 
temperament, to 
their musical 
taste, or to their 
histrionic talent. 
It would only be 
natural, therefore, 
to suppose that 
in these parts the 
singer surpasses 
himself and be* 
comes truly great 
because he is en- 
tirely sincere. 

Through the 
courteous indul- 
gence of many of 
our artists at 
Covent ( harden 
in this and past 
years, who have 
consented to 

Vol, xvlii.— TL 

i^i\ttn « PkoUu. 

reveal their predilections, the writer is enabled 
to gently lift a corner of the veil and to let the 
readers judge for themselves whether they 
agree with the choice* The singer was asked 
in each case to state the favourite rale and 
the scene or act preferred in the same opera. 
The portraits are given in that character, and 
they have, moreover, been framed in a few- 
bars of the chosen music. 

The arrangement of the matter is purely 
accidental, and in no wise depends upon 
precedence or preference, but rather upon 
the roles themselves^ which fall naturally into 

{ to u nod's " Faust " as a favourite of so 
many years' standing opens the list. Here 
we have two Marguerites^ Madame Marie 
Engle and Madame Suzanne Adams, both of 
whom confess to a decided preference for 
this part, and for that of Gounod's Juliette. 
It is a strange coincidence that there is also 
a certain similarity in the manner in which 
both Marguerites made their debut under 

very adverse cir- 
c umstances, 
w T hich might well 
have proved dis- 
astrous had not 
both young 
singers been 
plucky and re- 
solute enough to 
compel success 
to attend them. 

Madame Marie 
Engle was to 
make her first 
bow as Juliette at 
Chicago, intro- 
duced by Messrs. 
Abbey and (irau ; 
two rehearsals 
with piano and 
two with orches- 
tra had been 
stipulated for, but 
somehow or other 
she was deprived 
of them by cir- 
cumstances over 
which it seemed 
to have any con- 
trol, and she was 
left to face the 
immense audi- 
ence imperfectly 

byUoOgK 7 

Original from 



equipped. She was rewarded for her spirit and 
courage, however, by complete success, and 
since then the rdk has ever been dear to her, 
Madame Engle, in reply to my letter, says: — 

Dear Miss Schi.esi^geh, — I send you a phnto- 
graph as Marguerite in " Faust/* for all ray piclures 
as fttiictfe are gone, I prefer the garden scene, and 
believe me, Very sincerely, 

May 4th, '99. Marie Englr. 

Round the portrait will be noticed parts of 
the well-known ballad/' The King of Thulc," 
the "jewel Song," and of the lovely duet 
music, all from the garden scene* 

Madame Suzanne 
Adams made her 
debut as Julie He at the 
Grand Opera, Paris, 
securing a three years' 
engagement in con- 
sequence* The occa- 
sion other first appear- 
ance as Marguerite 
was a nn-nmrahle one. 
The management was 
in despair, for the five 
available Marguerites 
were all indisposed, 
and Suzanne Adams 
had never sung the 
part on the stage and 
had never even re- 
hearsed it ; m the 
afternoon she was 
begged to take the 
role. u If Madame X, 
will sing the first part 
I will come in after 
the garden scene," the 
young singer said. At 
six o'clock, however, 
Madame X. was too 
ill to appear at all, 
and Suzanne Adams 
saved the situation by 
bravely coming to the 
rescue. She had her 
reward, and won quite a triumph. 

As the i£ Jewel Song ,1 is Madame Adams's 
favourite in the opera, she appears framed 
in its familiar strains. 

London, May 51b, '99. 
Dear Miss Slhlesinorr,— It is very difficult fur 
me to say which it>k I prefer, as I find so much 
to interest mc in all of Ihem. I Ihink perhaps I like 
Nargwtntc the I jest. 'My favourite composers arc 
t j 011 nod and Mozart. 

Ikdieve rae» yoi;rs very truly, 


This Marguerite has made quite a romantic 
marriage, as the bridegroom, Mr, Leo Stern, 
related to me- Showing me the portrait of 

Digitized by G* 

a sweet girl of sixteen, " That s the girl 1 fell 
in love with," he said, with justifiable pride, 
and §< I've been in love with her for ten 
years," The course of true love did not run 
smooth in this case, for Miss Adams's aunt 
set her face against the match, with the 
result that one fine day Mr. Stern made his 
way over to Paris and brought Miss Adams 
right away with him then and there, M in her 
plain little grey dress, just as she was, and 
without any luggage, and we were married 
by special license in Marylehonc Church." 
Three days later, on 
Oct obe r 21st, 1 898, 
the bride had to start 
alone for Chicago, 
where she made her 
American debut \ but 
Mr, Stern joined her 
after a while. Cruel 
fate separated them 
again, however, for on 
the very night of her 
first appearance at the 
M et ropol i t an O j >cra 
House, New York, the 
bri degroo m , reca lied 
by a cable, sailed 
back to fulfil engage- 
ments in England, 

Pol Plan<jon w rites 
that his favourite 
character is Mephis- 
iapheks in Gounod's 
" Faust," and as for 
the music, he chooses 
the whole of his part. 
As it cannot all he 
quoted, the two fam- 
ous numbers "Dio 
del or' " and the Sere- 
nade have been 
chosen for the frame. 
On one occasion 
our Mephisfcphtks was 
distinctly original, doing a deed which would 
make the hair of all past and present 
Mephisttn bristle with horror. The attitude 
of this proverbially red gentleman towards 
fire and his interest in keeping it burning 
brightly are well known; and yet on one 
memorable occasion, whilst Y\&\\^ox\-Mephisio- 
pheksy trembling with excitement and delight 
at the thought of a new victim, was waiting 
outside Faust's study for his summons, the 
unexpected occurred, 

"What a curious and familiar smell!" 
said Mephisto to himself. 4t Is Dr. Faust 
burning up all his dry old books ? " 
Original from 



audience under a spell. Thus was 
a panic avoided, thanks to the 
presence of mind of these three 

This is what had happened : 
the red light which always heralds 
the approach of Mephisiopheks had 
been too generously expended, and 
the canvas representing the wall of 
Ftutsfs study caught fire. 

There is another character be- 
longing to the domain of French 
opera, Carmen, the favourite nt/e of 
Mill-. XeKe <k: Luskin, who thus 
replies to the questions : — 

My favourite rtfo — O2 r*mn. My favofl Hi e 
scene in 'the same opera— ,( The death 
scene. 11 My favourite recreation — "Listen- 
ing to £imk? music." My favourite com- 
poser— 11 I have none." My voice was 
trained by — <s My molhcr." I made my 
debut in — ** America.* 1 

(Signed) ZftUR i>n Lijssan. 

The musical frame, therefore, is 
derived from the scene where Don 
Jose comes upon Carmen as she h 
awaiting the issue of the hull-fight ; 
he has just pleaded fur her love 
and been spurned hy her. 

•Coven 1 Garden, June ?o\ LP95. 

Suddenly a flame shot through the 
study wall, and certain indispensable 
excrescences on his head were singed. 
Mephhto leapt back hurriedly a foot or 
two, " Avaunt ! slave, would st thou 
attack thy master ? Help here, water, 
quick ! or I shall lose my victim." 

P 1 an 90 n - Mepkhtop heks re-a [ >j )ear e d 
in the twinkling of an eye with two 
buckets full of water, followed by a 
fireman with the hose. 

" Look out there, old chap ! you 
needn't drench me ! tf called out 
Alvarez-Ywwtf, in colloquial French, 

"Bah! who minds a little water? 
We shall soon dry down below ! * 

For once the cravings of the 
audience for stage effects were more 
than satisfied, and the ominous shufll 
ing of many feet already announced a 
retreat, when a pure, clear voice was 
heard : higher and higher it rose ! It 
was Melba holding the frightened 




Original from 

s 4 


MAP.VMK NOHIUCA A- |i k V \ X H | ]. N 

From a I*hata.\bit JlvjHutt, JYeup 1'tfrl 

The immense scope for 
dramatic study afforded by this 
impersonation greatly attracted 
our Carmcti^ and in order to 
be able to enter more fully into 
the part, she spent months in 
Seville, observing the sunny, 
dark beauties who work in the 
cigarette factories of the ancient 
Moorish city, and making 
mental notes of the mixture 
of coyness and wild, uncon- 
trolled passion in their nature. 
The keynote of Mile, de 
Lussan's conception of Car wen 
is that she was an alien among 
the unscrupulous gipsies, and 
revoked in her heart against 
their wantonness and fierce, 
untamed spirit, longing secretly 
for better things, but incapable 
by nature of thinking seriously, 
There remains now a splendid 
array of Wagners heroes and 

heroines. First, Madame 
Nordica - Domt^ as the 
warlike Valkyrk^ a role 
which she confesses to 
be her favourite, On her 
shield-frame are many of 
her favourite motives from 
the "Nibelungen Ring," 
such as the shout of the 
Valkyrie, Hthjo-to-ka! the 
motive in which she 
pleads so touchingly with 
the angered Woian in 
" Die Walkure," her 
awakening by Sicyfricd^ 
Brunnhifdds new motive 
as a mortal woman filled 
with love for Siegfried r 
and her last glorious sotlg 
of exultation in the 
" Ciottcrdammerung." 

Madame Nordica, by 
the way, is the possessor 
of the only dog that can 
boast of having been in- 
side Bayreuth during a 
p e r f o r m a n c e ; h e was 
smuggled in under a cloak 

3 y Google 

Original from 



by the n\iid, but the music was too much for 
his feelings, and he raised up his voice in 
protest ; for which he was speedily turned 
out Madame Wagners remarks on the 
occasion have not been recorded, but she 
must have been 
very irate. 

Herr Andreas 
Etippel gives as 
his preferences 
Siegfried and 
Lohengrin; there- 

audience wondered what she was doing. This 
is what had occurred : When Sieg/inde f 
escorted by Brunnhiide^ tried to make her 
regulation exit at the back of the wings, she 
found it completely blocked up with scenery, 
and it was the protecting Valkyrie who, see- 
ing her dilemma, advised the alternative* 

Miss Strong won her way to fame with 
this roh\ in which she also made her debut; 
for when she had been a professional for 
three weeks only she already held in her 
hand a contract to sing the part at Bayreuth 
the same year. 

Mr. David Bispham 
wrote as follows to explain 
his preferences i— 

It is hapl to tell yon which 
is my favourite u|*cr&tiG char- 
acter, hut I am inclined u> 
think th:it (he first Wagner tSic 
in which I appeared, now five 
years ago [the letter is dated 
July 20th, 1&97L namely, fCta- 
WAnalm "Tristan and Isolde," 
is perha|)s one of the best and 
nittst symtmthelic, mid one 
which I he public seems to 
admire. The scene in the last 
act in which the faithful Awr- 
wenal if watching over his 
master's bed, after which he 


fore he appears 
in the costume 
of the latter, 
surrounded by 
his favourite 
music from 
the first act of 
" Siegfried, ff in- 
cluding, of 
course, the 
" Forging of Nothung," 

Miss Susan Strong shall speak for 
herself as to her preferences in part 
of her letter written in 1897^ and they 
still retain their hold over her, she 
assures me, at the present day, This 
is what she writes : — 

I must aekm mle^ge, however, that wilh 
ail due reverence and affect inn for ihe ri*fc 
of Sitgiimfci I find it rather ImiIcI for nie to 
choose it above so many others which are so 
dear to me* 

On one occasion, when singing in 
this part, Miss Strong found herself 
in a fix, and she was observed, after 
she was supposed to have made her 
exit, to return to the stage* unmindful 
of IVotan's wrath, and ascend the 
rocky boulders at the back. The 

by Google 

Original from 



Ftnin a Ptufo. 

figh Is for and dies at I he feet of Tr is/tin f is 
perhaps one oF the most moving situations 
in the whole work* It gives nie much 
pleasure to inclose my photograph, as you 
request. Very sincerely yours, 

Da vtii Hi sii i am. 

What more natural than to turn 
from one faithful servant of the ill- 
fated lovers to the other, Brangiitie ? 
This is the favourite impersonation of 
Mile* Olitzka, who is represented in 
her photograph holding the cup from 
which Isolde and Tristan have just 
drunk the love-potion, believing it 
to he the draught of death. The 
hare of music forming the frame are 
taken from the first act of the drama, 
as that is Mile, Olitzka's favourite. 
This time last year this Brangiitie was 
singing in St, Petersburg, with MM. 
Jean and Edouard de Reszke as 
Tristan and King Marke^ before the 
Czar, who a lways appeared punctually 
before the overture and remained till 
the end of the opera in his box, which 
looks straight on to the stage and 
cannot be seen from the auditorium. 

Mile. Olitzka further con- 
fesses a great partiality for 
the characters of Ortrttda in 
" Lohengrin," and Amnerts 
in " A Ida " ; her favourite 
composers are Wagner, 
Beethoven, and Mozart, 
and her favourite recrea- 
tions studying and walking 
or outdoor amusements of 
different kinds ; she thus 
finds happiness in her work 
without neglecting her 
physical welfare. 

Miss Meisslinger, who 
has been known at Covent 
Garden for the last five 
years, tells me that the im- 
personations which give her 
the greatest pleasure are 
Orirudu in "Lohengrin," 
Fides in u The Prophet," 
and Adriatic in M Rienzu" 
She studied under Mme. 
Viardot Garcia in Paris, 
and made her debut in 

The next in our portrait 
gallery is Pars if al^ as sung 
by Ernest van Dvck, and 



Original from 



tifciik ANTON van koov A*i wot 
JVisw ivrik 

some of tht: music 
from the Good Friday 
spell, as his favourite, 
forms the frame. No 
man has been more 
persistently misspelt 
than Van Dyck ; hut 
he settled the point 
once and for all in 
court, where he was 
upon our ocrasiuii 

called into the 
witness - box during 
his residence in 
Vienna. "Do you 
spell your name with 
or withtmt a V?" 

asked the magistrate, peering at him 
over his gold - rimmed spectacles. 
" Why, with a *c,' to be sure," was 
the tenor's emphatic reply ; " what 
would a tenor do at the opera with- 
out the famous ' C ? ? " 

Herr Anton van Rooy gives as his 
preference the first rdk he sang at 
Bayreuth, and indeed on any stage 
—that of Wotan; and his portrait 
is surrounded by a few bars of the 
beautiful music he sings as he bids 
farewell to Brunnhild^ and kisses 
from her her god hood before leav- 
ing her on her fire-girt rock. 

M. Jean de Reszke has sent a 
photograph of him>elf as Tristan^ 
which is one of his favourite im- 
personations. The bars of music 
given are from the favourite " lovers' 
duet " in the second act ; and also 
Tri$f an's last words in Act III., when, 
hearing Isolde's voice outside calling 
out, u Tristan, Beloved/' he springs 
up to go to her, and dies in her 
arms with her name on his lips. 
Mile. Felia Litvinne, who is jean 
de Reszkes sister-in-law, tells me 
the part of Isolde is 
by tar her favourite ; 
in fact, she loves it 
passionately, and she 
cannot say that she 
prefers any one 
scene, for the whole 
role is so complete. 
Unfortunately, Mile. 
Litvinne has no 
photograph in the 
character at present, 
Some familiar figures 
will he missed from 
these pages, but, 
unfortunately, some 
the artists did 
not reach London 
time to be com- 
municated with, 
while the photos, 
of others, again, 
arrived too late 
to be included* 

Fritm a Pknto. h]i\ 

by Google 


Original from 

A Master of Craft. 

By VV. W. Jacobs. 



HE same day that Flower and 
his friends visited the theatre, 
Captain Barber gave a small 
and sclent tea party. The 
astonished Mrs, Banks had re- 
turned home with her daughter 
the day before to find the air full of rumours 
about Captain Barber and his new house- 
keeper. They had been watched for hours 
at a time from upper hack windows of houses 
in the same row, and the professional opinion 
of the entire female element was that Mrs, 
Church could land her fish at any time she 
thought fit. 

"Old fools are the worst of fools," said 
Mrs, Banks, tersely, as she tied her bonnet- 
strings ; ''the idea of Captain Barber thinking 
of marrying at his time of life." 

"Why shouldn't he?" inquired her 

" Why, because he's promised to leave his 
property to Fred and you, of course," 
snapped the old lady; "if he marries that 
hussy it's precious little you and Fred will get" 

" I expect it's mostly talk," said her 
daughter, calmly, as she closed the street 
door behind her indignant parent. "People 
used to talk about you and old 
Mr. Wilders, and there was 
nothing in it. He only used to 
come for a glass of your ale." 

This reference to an 
admirer who had con- 
sumed several barrels 
of the liquor in question 
without losing his head 
put the finishing touch 
to the elder lady's wrath, 
and she walked the rest 
of the way in ominous 

Captain Barber re- 
ceived them in the 
elaborate velvet 
smoking-cap with the 
gold tassel which had 
evoked such strong en- 
comiums from Mrs. 
Church, and in a few 
well -chosen words — 
carefully rehearsed that afternoon — 
presented his housekeeper. 

"Will you come up to my room and 
take your things off?" inquired Mrs. Church, 

returning the old lady's hostile stare with 

11 I'll take mine off down here, if Captain 
Barber doesn't mind," said the latter, subsid- 
ing into a chair with a gasp. " Him and me's 
very old friends." 

She unfastened the strings of her bonnet, 
andj taking off that article of attire, placed it 
in her lap while she unfastened her shawl 
She then held both out to Mrs, Church, 
briefly exhorting her to be careful. 

(t Oh, what a lovely bonnet," said that lady, 
in false ecstasy, "What a perfect beauty! 
I've never seen anything like it before. 
Never ! " 

Captain Barber, smiling at the politeness 
of his housekeeper, was alarmed and per- 
plexed at the generous colour which suddenly 
filled the old lady's cheeks. 

" Mrs. Banks made it herself," he said ; 
"she's very clever at that sort of thing." 

" There, do you know I guessed as much," 
said Mrs. Church, beaming; "directly I saw 
it, I said to myself: ' That was never made 
by a milliner. There's too much taste in the 
way the flowers are arranged.' " 

Mrs. Banks looked at her daughter in a 
mute appeal for help. 

"I'll take yours up 
too, shall I ? sr said the 
amiable housekeeper, as 
Mrs. Banks, with an air 


Copyrightj iftoOj by W. W, Jacobs, in the United Stales of America. 

"T^rvruil fc Original from 




of defying criticism, drew a cop from a 
paper-bag and put it on. 

"Fll take mine myself, please," said Miss 
Banks, ivith coldness. 

, "Oh, well, you may as well take them all 
then," said Mrs. Church, putting the mother's 
bonnet and shawl in her arms. " I'll go and 
see that the kettle boils," she added, briskly. 

She returned a minute or two later with 
the tea-pot, and setting chairs, took the head 
of the table. 

"And how's the leg?" inquired Captain 
Barber, misinterpreting Mrs, Banks's screwed- 
up face. 

"Which one?" asked Mrs. Banks, shortly. 

11 The had "an," said the captain. 

"They're both bad," said Mrs. Banks, more 
shortly than before, as she noticed that Mrs. 
Church had got real lace in her cuffs and was 
pouring out the tea in full consciousness of 
the fact, 

11 Dear, dear/* said the captain, sympa- 

" Swollen ? " inquired Mrs, Church, 

"Swelled right out of shape," explained 
Captain Barber, impressively ; 
"like pillers a'most they are." 

" Poor thing," said Mrs. 
Church, in a voice which 
made Mrs. Banks itch to 
slap her. " I knew a lady 
once just the same, but ski 
was a drinking woman." 

Again Mrs. Banks, at a 
loss for words, looked to her 
daughter for assistance, 

" Dear me, how dreadful 
it must be to know such 
people," said Miss Banks, 

11 Yes," sighed the other, 
"It used to make me feel 
so sorry for her — they were 
utterly shapeless, you know. 

"That's how Mrs. Banks's 
are," said the captain, nod- 
ding sagely. M You look 'ot, 
Mrs. Banks, Shall I open the 
winder a bit?" \\\ 

" I'll thank you not to talk 
about rne like that, Captain Barber," said 
Mrs. Banks, the flowers on her cap trembling. 

" As you please, ma'am," said Captain 
Barber, with a stateliness which deserved a 
better subject. "I was only repeating what 
Dr. Hodder told me in your presence." 

Mrs, Banks made no reply, but created a 

diversion by passing her cup up for more tea ; 
her feelings, when Mrs, Church look off the 
lid of the tea-pot and poured in about a pint 
of water before helping her, belonging to that 
kind known as indescribable. 

"Water bewitched and tea begrudged," 
she said, trying to speak jocularly. 

" Well, the fourth cup never is very good, 
is it?" said Mrs. Church, apologetically, 
41 I'll put some more tea in so that your next 
CUpll be better," 

As a matter of fact it was Mrs, Banks's 
third cup, and she said so, Mrs. Church 
receiving the correction with a polite smile, 
more than tinged with incredulity. 

" It's wonderful what a lot o 1 tea is drunk," 
said Captain Barber, impressively, looking 
round the table. 

"Tve heard say it's like spirit drinking," 
said Mrs, Church ; "they say it gets such a 
hold of people that they can't give it up. 
They're just slaves to it, and they like it 
brown and strong like brandy." 

Mrs. Banks, who had been making noble 
efforts, could contain herself no longer. She 
put down the harmless beverage which had 

Vol. xviii.— 12* 

by Google 


just been handed to her, and pushed her 
chair back from the table. " Are you speak- 
ing of me, young woman ? " she asked, 
tremulous with indignation* 

" Oh, no, certainly not," said Mrs, Church, 
in great distress. " I never thought of such 
a thing. I was alludiog to the people 

Original from 




Captain Barber was talking of— regular tea- 
drinkers, you know." 

" I know what you mean, ma'am/* said 
Mrs, Banks, fiercely. 

" There, there," said Captain Barber, in- 

11 Don't you say ( there, there,' to me, 
Captain Barber, because I won't have it/' 
said the old lady, speaking with great 
rapidity ; M if you think that I'm going to sit 
here and be insulted by— by that woman, 
you're mistaken." 

M You're quite mistook, Mrs, Banks/' said 
the captain, slowly. " Fve heard everything 
she said, and, where the insult comes in, I ? m 
sure I don't know. I don't think I'm want- 
ing in common sense, ma'am." 

He patted the housekeeper's hand, kindly, 
and, in Full view of the indignant Mrs. Banks, 
she squeezed his in return and gaz.ed at him 
affectionately. There is nothing humorous 
to the ordinary person in a tea-cup, but 

of them. Mrs. Banks, apparently realizing 
this, laughed again with increased acridity, 
and finally became so very amused that she 
shook in her chair. 

'Tm glad youVe enjoying yourself, ma'am/' 
said Captain Barber, loftily. 

With a view, perhaps, of giving his guest 
further amusement he patted the house- 
keeper's hand again, whereupon Mrs, 
Banks's laughter ceased, and she sat re- 
garding Mrs. Church with a petrified stare, 
met by that lady with a glance of haughty 

" S'pose we go into the garden a bit," 
suggested Barber, uneasily. The two ladies 
had eyed each other for three minutes with- 
out blinking, and his own eyes were watering 
in sympathy. 

Mrs, Banks, secretly glad of the interrup- 
tion, made one or two vague remarks about 
going home, but after much persuasion 
allowed him to lead her into the garden, the 


Mrs. Banks, looking straight into hers, broke 
into a short, derisive laugh. 

4 * Anything the matter, ma'am ?' J inquired 
Captain Barber, regarding her somewhat 

Mrs. Barber shook her head. u Only 
thoughts," she said, mysteriously. 

It is difficult for a man to object to his 
visitors finding amusement in their thoughts, 
or even to inquire too closely into the nature 

by Google 

solemn Elizabeth bringing up the rear with a 
hassock and a couple of cushions. 

" It's a new thing for you, having a house- 
keeper," observed Mrs, Banks, after her 
daughter had returned to the house to assist 
in washing up. 

"Yes, I wonder I never thought of it 
before," said the artful Barber ; (l you wouldn't 
believe how comfortable it is," 

(i I daresay," said Mrs. Banks, grimly. 
Original from 




t£ It's nice to have a woman about the 
house/' continued Captain Barber, slowly, 
"it makes it more home-like, 
servant-gal ain't no good at all' 

it? ; 

A slip of a 
inquired Mrs, 

11 How does Fred like 

" My ideas are Fred's ideas," said Uncle 
Barber, somewhat sharply, "What I like he 
has to like, naturally." 






" I was thinking of my darter/' said Mrs. 
Banks. "The arrangement was, I think, that 
when they married they was to live with you ? " 

Captain Barber nodded acquiescence, 

" Elizabeth would never live in a house 
with that woman, or any other woman as 
housekeeper in It," said the mother. 

" VVell, she won't have to," said the old 
man ; ** when they marry and Elizabeth comes 
here, I shaVt want a housekeeper — I shall get 
rid of her" 

Mrs, Banks shifted in her chair, and gazed 
thoughtfully down the garden. "Of course 
my idea was for them to wait till I was gone," 
she said at length, 

"Just so," replied the other, "and room's 
the pity," 

"But Elizabeth's getting on and I don't 
seem to go/' continued the old lady, as 
though mildly surprised at Providence for its 
unaccountable delay ; "and there's Fred, he 
ain't getting younger." 

■zed by GOO^LC 

Captain Barber puffed at his pipe. M None 
of us are/' he said, profoundly, 

*<And Fred might get tired of waiting," 
said Mrs. Banks, ruminating. 

" He'd better let me hear him," said the 
uncle, fiercely ; " leastways, o 5 course, he's 
tired o' waiting, in a sense. He'd like to be 
married." - 

ts There's young Gibson," said Mrs. Banks, 
in a thrilling whisper. 

"What about him ?" inquired Bar- 
ber, surprised at her manner. 

"Comes round after Elizabeth, M said 
Mrs. Banks. 

" No ! " said Captain 
Barber, blankly. 

Mrs. Banks pursed up 
her lips and nodded 

M Pretends to come and 
see me," said Mrs, Banks ; 
"always coming in bring- 
ing something new for 
my legs. The worst of 
it is, he ain't always care- 
ful what he brings* He 
brought some new-fangled 
stuff in a bottle last week, 
and the agonies I suffered 
after rubbing it in wouldn't 
be believed." 

" It's like his impu- 
dence," said the captain. 
" I've been thinking," 
said Mrs. Banks, nodding 
her head with some ani- 
mation, "of giving Fred 
What do you think he'd 
do if I said they might marry this autumn ? " 
"Jump out of his skin with joy/ 5 said 
Captain Barber, with conviction, " Mrs. 
Banks, the pleasure you've given me this day 
is more than I can say." 

M And they'll live with you just the same ? " 
said Mrs, Banks. 

" Certainly/' said the captain. 
"They'll only be a few doors off then," 
said Mrs. Banks, "and it'll be nice for you 
to have a woman in the house to look after 

CapHn Barber nodded softly 
what I've been wanting for years/ 3 

"And that huss— housekeeper/' said Mrs. 
Banks, correcting herself—" will go ? " 

" O' course/' said Captain Barber. " I 
shaVt want no housekeeper with my nevy's 
wife in the house* YouVe told Elizabeth, I 

s ' pos<i? " Original from 

a little surprise. 

" It's 
lie said, 

9 2 


"Not yet," said Mrs. Banks, who as a 
matter of fact had been influenced by the 
proceedings of that afternoon to bring to 
a head a step she had hitherto only vaguely 

Elizabeth, who came down the garden 
again a little later, accompanied by Mrs. 
Church, received the news stolidly. A feel- 
ing of regret that the attentions of the 
devoted Gibson must now cease certainly 
occurred to her, but she never thought of 
contesting the arrangements made for her, 
and accepted the situation with a placidity 
which the more ardent Barber was utterly 
unable to understand. 

"Fred'll stand on his 'ed with joy," 
the unsophisticated mariner declared, with 

"He'll go singing about the house," 
declared Mrs. Church. 

Mrs. Banks regarded her unfavourably. 

" He's never said much," continued Uncle 
Barber, in an exalted strain ; " that ain't 
Fred's way. He takes arter me : he's one o' 
the quiet ones, one o* the still deep waters 
what always feels the most. When I tell 
'im his face'U just light up with joy." 

" It'll be nice for you, tco," said Mrs. 
Banks, with a side glance at the housekeeper; 
" you'll have somebody to look after you and 
take an interest in you, and strangers can't 
be expected to do that even if they're nict" 

" We shall have him standing on his head, 
too/' said Mrs. Church, with a bright smile ; 
" you're turning everything upside down, Mrs. 

"There's things as wants altering," said the 
old lady, with emphasis. " There's few 
things as I don't see, ma'am." 

"I hope you'll live to see a lot more," said 
Mrs. Church, piously. 

"She'll live to be ninety," said Captain 
Barber, heartily. 

"Oh, easi/v," said Mrs. Church. 

Captain Barber regarding his old friend 
saw her face suffused with a wrath for which 
he was utterly unable to account. With a 
hazy idea that something had passed which 
he had not heard, he caused a diversion by 
sending Mrs. Church indoors for a pack of 
cards, and solemnly celebrated the cccasion 
with a game of whist, at which Mrs. Church, 
in partnership with Mrs. Banks, either through 
sheer wilfulness or absence of mind, contrived 
to lose every game. 


As a result of the mate's ill-behaviour at the 
theatre, Captain Fred Flower treated him 

by L^OOgle 

with an air of chilly disdain, ignoring, as far 
as circumstances would permit, the fact that 
such a person existed. So far as the social 
side went the mate made no demur, but it 
was a different matter when the skipper acted 
as though he were not present at the breakfast 
table, and being chary of interfering with the 
other's self-imposed vow of silence, he rescued 
a couple of rashers from his plate and put 
them on his own. Also, in order to put 
matters on a more equal footing, he drank 
three cups of coffee in rapid succession, 
leaving the skipper to his own reflections 
and an empty coffee-pot. In this sociable 
fashion they got through most of the day, 
the skipper refraining from speech until late 
in the afternoon, when, both being at work 
in the hold, the mate let a heavy case fall on 
his foot. 

" I thought you'd get it," he said, calmly, 
as Flower paused to take breath ; " it wasn't 
my fault." 

" Whose was it, then ? " roared Flower, 
who had got his boot off and was trying 
various tender experiments with his toe to 
see whether it was broken or not 

" If you hadn't been holding your head in 
the air and pretending that I wasn't here, it 
wouldn't have happened," said Fraser, with 
some heat 

The skipper turned his hack on him, and 
meeting a look of inquiring solicitude from 
Joe, applied to him for advice. 

"What had I better do with it?" he 

"Well, if it was my toe, sir," said Joe, re- 
garding it respectfully, " I should stick it in 
a basin o' boiling water and keep it there as 
long as I could bear it." 

" You're a fool," said the skipper, briefly. 
" What do you think of it, Ben ? I don't 
think it's broken." 

The old seaman scratched his head. " Well, 
if it belonged to me," he said, slowly, 
"there's some ointment down the fo'c's'le 
wjt the cook 'ad for sore eyes. I should 
just put some o' that on. It looks good 

The skipper, summarizing the chief points 
in Ben's character, which, owing principally 
to the poverty of the English language, bore 
a remarkable likeness to Joe's and the mate's, 
took his sock and boot in his hand, and 
gaining the deck limped painfully to the 

The foot was so painful after tea that he 
could hardly bear his slipper on, and he went 
ashore in his working clothes to the chemist's, 
preparatory to fitting himself out for Liston 




Street The chemist, leaning oveT the 
counter, was inclined to take a serious view 
of it, and shaking his head with much 
solemnity, pre- 
pared a bottle 
of medicine, a / 

bottle of lotion, / £z 

and a box of 


" Let me see it again as soon as you've 
finished the medicine/' he said, as he handed 
the articles over the counter. 

Flower promised, and hobbling towards 
the door turned into the street. Then the 
amiable air which he had worn in the shop 
gave way to one of unseemly hauteur as he 
saw Fraser hurrying towards hirn. 

"Look out," cried the latter, warningly. 

The skipper favoured him with a baleful 

"AH right/' said the mate, angrily, "go 
your own way then. Don't come to me when 
you get into trouble, that's all" 

Flower passed on his way in silence, 
Then a thought struck him and he stopped 

11 You wish to speak to me ? " he asked, 

" No, I'm hanged if I do," said the mate, 
sticking his hands into his pockets. 

"If you wish to speak to me," said the 
other, trying in vain to conceal a trace of 
anxiety in his voice, "it's my duty to 
listen. What were you going to say just 

The mate eyed him wrathfully, but as the 
pathetic figure with its wounded toe and 
cargo of remedies stood there waiting for 

him to speak, he 
suddenly softened. 

" Don't go back, 
old man," he said, 
kindly; "sAc's 
aboard/ 1 

worth of mixture 
to tie taken thrice 
daily from table- 
spoons spilled over 
the curb, and the 
skipper, thrusting 
the other packets 
mechanically into 
his pockets, limped 
hurriedly round the 

"It's no use 
finding fault with 
me, 1 ' said Fraser, 
quickly, as he 
stepped along be- 
side him, " so don't 
try it. They came 
down into the 
cabin before I knew 
they were aboard 

"They?" re- 
the distressed Flower, " Who's 

by Google 


" The young woman that came before and 
a stout woman with a little dark moustache 
and earrings. They're going to wait until 
you come back to ask you a few questions 
about Mr, Robinson, They've been asking 
me a few. I've locked the door of your state- 
room^ and here's the key," 

Flower pocketed it and, after a little 
deliberation, thanked him, 

" I did the best I could for you," said the 
other, with a touch of severity, "If Id 
treated you as some men would have done, I 
should have just let you walk straight into 
the trap." 

Flower gave an apologetic cough. " Fve 
had a lot of worry lately, Jack,'* he said, 
humbly; "come in and have something. 
Perhaps it 11 clear my head a bit." 

**I told *em you wouldn't be back till 
twelve at least," said the mate, as Flower 
rapidly diagnosed his complaint and ordered 
whisky, " perhaps not then, and that when 
you did turn up you'd sure to be the worse 
for liquor. The old lady said she'd wait all 
Original from 




night for the pleasure of seeing your bonny 
face, and as for you being drunk, she said 
she don't suppose there's a woman in London 
that has had more experience with drunken 
men than she has. 31 

"Let this be a warning to you, Jack," said 
the skipper, solemnly, as he drained his glass 
and .put it thoughtfully on the counter. 

" Don't you trouble about me, ?t said Fraser ; 
"you've got all you can do to look after 
yourself. Pre come out to look for a police- 
man ; at least, that's what I told them," 


"All the police in the world couldn't do 
me any good," sighed Flower. "Poppy's 
got tickets for a concert to-night, and I was 
going with her. I can't go like this." 

" Well, what " are you going to do ? n 
inquired the other, 

{■lower shook his head and pondered. 
" You go back and get rid of them the best 
way you can, JP he said, at length, " but what- 
ever you do, don't have a scene, I'll stay 
here till you come and tell me the coast is 
clear. 57 

" And suppose it don't clear ? 7t said 

by Google 

" Then I'll pick you up at Greenwich in 
the morning," said Flower. 

M And suppose they're still aboard ? J ' said 

" I won't suppose any such thing," said 
the other, hotly ; " if you can't get rid of two 
women between now and three in the morn- 
ing, you're not much of a mate. If they 
catch me I'm ruined, and you'll be respon- 
sible for it." 

The mate, staring at him blankly, opened 
his mouth to reply, but being "utterly unable 
to think of anything adequate to 
the occasion, Luok up his glass 
instead, and, drinking off the 
contents, turned to the door* He 
stood for a moment at the thresh- 
old gazing at Flower as though 
he had just discovered points 
about him which had hitherto 
escaped his notice, and then 
made his way back to I he wharf. 

" They're still down below, 
sir," said joe, softly, as he stepped 
aboard, "and making as free 
and as comfortable as though 
they're going to stay a month." 

Fraser shrugged his shoulders 
and went below, The appear- 
ance of the ladies amply con- 
firmed Joe's remark. 

" Never can find one when you 
want him, can you ? " said the 
elder lady, in playful allusion to 
the police, 

" Well , I altered my mind," 
said Fraser, amiably. "I don't 
like treating ladies roughly, but 
if the cap'n comes on board and 
finds you here it'll be bad for me, 
that's all." 

" What time do you expect 
him?" inquired Miss Tipping. 

"Not before we sail at three 
in the morning, 7 ' said the mate, 
glibly ; " perhaps not then. I often have 
to take the ship out without him. He's 
been away six weeks at a stretch before 

" Well, we'll stay here till he does come," 
said the elder lady. "I'll have his cabin, 
and my step-daughterll have to put up with 
your bed." 

" If you're not gone by the time we start, 
I shall have to have you put off," said Fraser. 
"Those of us who live longest'll see the 
most/' said Mrs, Tipping, calmly. 

An hour or two passed, the mate sitting 
smoking with a philosophy which he hoped 
Original from 




the "waiting mariner at the Admiral 
Cochrane would be able to imitate. He lit 
the lamp at last, and going on deck, ordered 
the cook to prepare supper. 

Mother and daughter, with feelings of 
gratitude, against which they fought strongly, 
noticed that the table was laid for three, and 
a little later, in a somewhat awkward fashion, 
they all sat down to the meal together. 

"Very good beef," said Mrs. Tipping, 

" Very nice,** said her daughter, who was 
exchanging glances with the mate. " I sup- 
pose you're very comfortable here, Mr. 

The mate sighed. " It's all right when the 
old man's away," he said, deceitfully. " He's 
got a dreadful temper." 

" I hope you didn't get into trouble 
through my coming aboard the other night," 
said Miss Tipping, softly. 

" Don't say anything about it," replied the 
mate, eyeing her admiringly. " I'd do more 
than that for you if I could." 

Miss Tipping, catching her mother's eye, 
bestowed upon her a glance of complacent 

" You don't mind us coming down here, do 
you ? " she said, languishingly. 

" I wish you'd live here," said the un- 
scrupulous Fraser ; " but of course I know 
you only come here to try and see that fellow 
Robinson," he added, gloomily. 

" I like to see you too," was the reply, "I 
like you very much as a friend." 

The mate in a melancholy voice thanked . 
her, and to the great annoyance of the cook, 
who had received strict orders from the 
forecastle to listen as much as he could, sat 
in silence while the table was cleared. 

11 What do you say to a hand at cards ? " he 
said, after the cook had finally left the 

" Three-handed cribbage," said Mrs. Tip- 
ping, quickly ; " it's the only game worth 

No objection being raised, the masterful 
lady drew closer to the table, and concentrat- 
ing energies of no mean order on the game, 
successfully played hands of unvarying good- 
ness, aided by a method of pegging which 
might perhaps be best described as dot and 
carry one. 

" You haven't seen anything of this Mr. 
Robinson since you were here last, I 
suppose?" said Fraser, noting with satisfac- 
tion that both ladies gave occasional uneasy 
glances at the clock. 

"No, an' not likely to," said Mrs. Tipping; 

" fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six, and a 
pair's eight." 

" Where's the fifteen six ? " inquired Fraser, 
glancing over. 

" Eight and seven," said the lady, pitching 
the cards with the others and beginning to 
shuffle for the next deal. 

"It's very strange behaviour," said the 
mate ; " Robinson's, I mean. Do you think 
he's dead ? " 

" No, I don't," said Mrs. Tipping, briefly. 
" Where's that capt'in of yours ? " 

Fraser, whose anxiety was becoming too 
much for his play, leaned over the table as 
though about to speak, and then, apparently 
thinking better of it, went on with the 

"Eh?" said Mrs. Tipping, putting her 
cards face downwards on the table and catch- 
ing his eye. " Where ? " 

"Oh, nowhere," said Fraser, awkwardly. 
11 1 don't want to be dragged into this, you 
know. It isn't my business." 

" If you know where he is, why can't you 
tell us?" asked Mrs. Tipping, softly. "There's 
no harm in that" 

"What's the good?* inquired Fraser, in a 
low voice ; " when youVe seen the old man 
you won't be any forwarder — he wouldn't tell 
you anything even if he knew it." 

"Well, we'd like to see him," said Mrs. 
Tipping, after a pause. 

"You see, you put me in a difficulty," 
said Fraser; "if the skipper doesn't come 
aboard, you're going with us, I under- 
stand ? " 

Mrs. Tipping nodded. " Exactly," she 
said, sharply. 

"Thatll get me into trouble, if anything 
will," said the mate, gloomily. "On the 
other hand, if I tell you where he is now, 
that'll get me into trouble, too." 

He sat back and drummed on the table 
with his fingers. "Well, III risk it," he said, 
at length; "you'll find him at 17, Beaufort 
Street, Bow." 

The younger woman sprang excitedly to 
her feet, but Mrs. Tipping, eyeing the young 
man with a pair of shrewd, small eyes, kept 
her seat. 

" And while we're gone, how do w f e know 
the capt'in won't come back and go off with 
the ship ? " she inquired. 

Fraser hesitated. "Well, 111 come with 
you, if you like," he said, slowly. 

"And suppose they go away and leave 
you behind ? " objected Mrs. Tipping. 

" Oh, well, you'd better stay then," said 
the mate, wearily, " unless we take a couple 

by K: 



_- 1 1 >-i 1 1 1 >.i 1 1 1 ■_■ 1 1 1 




of the hands with us. How would that suit 
you ? They can't sail with half a crew," 

Mrs. Tipping, who was by no means as 
anxious for a sea-voyage as she tried to make 
out, carefully pondered the situation. "I'm 
going to take an arm of each of 'em and 
Matilda'll take yours," she said, at length. 
■ " As you please," said Fraser, and in this 
way the procession actually started up the 
wharf, and looking back indignantly over its 

and then sat down suddenly before they coufd 
unwind themselves, and, with a compas- 
sionate " click " to his horse, started up the 
road. Except for a few chance wayfarers 
and an occasional coffee-stall, the main streets 
were deserted, but they were noisy compared 
with Beaufort Street Every house was in 
absolute darkness as the cab, with instinctive 
deference to slumber, crawled slowly up 
and down looking for No. 1 7* 


shoulder saw the watchman and Ben giving 
way to the most unseemly mirth, while the 
cook capered joyously behind them, A 
belated cab was passing the gate as they 
reached it, and in response to the mate's 
hail pulled sharply up, 

Mrs. Tipping, pushing her captives in first, 
stepped heavily into the cab followed, by her 
daughter, while the mate, after a brief dis- 
cussion, clambered on to the box. 

11 Go on," he skid, nodding, 

"Wot, ain't the rest of you comin'? " in- 
quired the cabman, eyeing the crowd at the 
gate, in pained surprise. 

"No, 17, Beaufort Street, Bow," said 
Mrs. Tipping, distinctly, as she put her head 
out of the window. 

" You could sit on *er lap," continued the 
cabman, appealing])'. 

No reply being vouchsafed to this sugges- 
tion he wrapped himself up in various rugs 




It stopped at last, and the mate, springing 
down, opened the door, and handing out the 
ladies, led the way up a flight of steps to the 
street door, 

"Perhaps you won't mind knocking/* he 
said to Mrs* Tipping,, "and don't forget to 
tell the cap'in I've done this to oblige you 
because you insisted upon it." 

Mrs, Tipping, seizing the knocker, knocked 
loud and long, and after a short interval 
repeated the performance. Somebody was 
heard stirring upstairs, and a deep voice cried 
out that it was coming, and peremptorily 
requested them to cease knocking. 

"That's not Flower's voice," said Fraser. 

"Not loud enough/' said Miss Tipping. 

The bolts were drawn back loudly and the 
chain grated ; then the door was flung o[>cn, 
and a big, red-whiskered man, blinking 
behind a candle, gruffly inquired what they 
meant by it 

Original from 



" Come inside," said Mrs. Tipping to her 

" Ain't you come to the wrong house?" 
demanded the red-whiskered man, borne 
slowly back by numbers. 

" I don't think so," said Mrs. Tipping, 
suavely ; " I want to see Captain Flower." 

" Well, you've come to the wrong house," 
said the red-whiskered man, shortly, " there's 
no such name here." 

"Think," said Mrs. Tipping. 

The red-whiskered man waved the candle 
to and fro until the passage was flecked with 

" Go away directly," he roared ; "how dare 
you come disturbing people like this ? " 

" You may just as well be pleasant over 
it," said Mrs. Tipping, severely ; " because we 
sha'n't go away until we have seen him. 
After all, it's got nothing to do with 

" We don't want anything to say to you," 
affirmed her daughter. 

"Will — you — get — out — of — my — house?" 
demanded the owner, wildly. 

" When we've seen Capt'in Flower," said 
Mrs. Tipping, calmly, "and not a moment 
before. We don't mind your getting in a 
temper, not a bit. You can't frighten us." 

The frenzied and reckless reply 6f the red- 
whiskered man was drowned in the violent 
slamming of the street-door, and he found 
himself alone with the ladies. There was a 
yell of triumph outside, and the sounds of a 
hurried scramble down the steps. Mrs. 
Tipping, fumbling wildly at the catch of the 
door, opened it just in time to see the cab- 

man, in reply to the urgent entreaties of the 
mate, frantically lashing his horse up the 

"So far so good," murmured the mate, 
as he glanced over his shoulder at the 
group amazed on the steps. "I've done 
the best I could, but I suppose there'll be a 

The watchman, with the remainder ot 
the crew, in various attitudes of expectant 
curiosity, were waiting to receive them at 
the wharf. A curiosity which increased in 
intensity as the mate, slamming the gate, 
put the big bar across and turned to the 

" Don't open that to anybody till we're off," 
he said, sharply. " Cap'in Flower has not 
turned up yet, I suppose ? " 

" No, sir," said Ben. 

They went aboard the schooner again, 
and the mate, remaining on deck, listened 
anxiously for the return of the redoubtable 
Mrs. Tipping, occasionally glancing over the 
side in expectation of being boarded from 
the neighbouring stairs ; but with the excep- 
tion of a false alarm caused by two maddened 
seamen unable to obtain admittance, and 
preferring insulting charges of somnolency 
against the watchman, the time passed quietly 
until high water. With the schooner in mid- 
stream slowly picking her way through the 
traffic, any twinges of remorse that he might 
have had for the way he had treated two 
helpless women left him, and he began to 
feel with his absent commander some of the 
charm which springs from successful wrong- 

(To be continued.) 

VoL xviii.-t3 

by Google 


The Arks of Arkiown. 

By Laura B» Starr. 

II lustrations from Photographs by Chas. Weidner^ San Francisco. 

N Eastern fad becomes a poetic 
fancy when carried out by the 
picturesque-loving Californians. 
The gracious climate, the re- 
sources of the country which 
furnish everything man can 
desire, and the universal heritage of energy, 
ambition, and love of novelty which comes 
to them from their immediate forebears, are 
among the many factors which combine to 
bring about this result. 

It was when they had become a little weary 
of the annual "camping-out," during the long, 

Who first conceived the idea of the 
California ark deponent sayeth not, but ten 
to one it originated in the fertile brain of 
some member of the Bohemian Club, that 
fountain-head of novelty and unique ideas. 
The shape it took was much the same as the 
one Noah built in obedience to the Lord's 
commandment, little thinking he was starting 
a fashion that would come sailing down the 
rivers of the world to the present time. The 
Nautilus, with a flat bottom and a deck- 
house built of four abandoned street-cars set 
end to end, two and two in a solid square, 


sunny, and cloudless summer, and the semi- 
occasional "jinks," both " high * and M low," 
of the Bohemian Club had paled somewhat, 
that someone suggested house-boats. The 
idea took root and grew, and the blossoming 
was a novelty. 

The Californian house - boat should be 
called an lf ark," and it should be modelled 
upon lines differing very materially from the 
11 broad, square-nosed sloop " of the Chinese 
ho use-boat, or the more graceful sampan of 
the Japanese, or the solid, substantial house- 
boat of the Thames, though possessing the 
best qualities of all of them. 

by Google 

was the first one, quickly followed by the 
Afatwda and others, built on the same lines. 

The partitions of the cars were removed, 
making two lovely rooms with windows 
galore, and sliding doors at each end ; 
stationary lamps were built into the wall, 
and the transoms arranged for ventilation. 
The long seats flanking the walls on either 
side were upholstered and plentifully 
cushioned, making comfortable beds by 
night, and ease-inviting lounging- places by 

A stationary table in each room was the 
common centre across which the events of 
Original from 





,the day and plans for the morrow might be 
discussed, as well as other things besides 
liquid air. Oriental hangings and the neces- 
sary culinary outfit gave the quaint craft an 
air of home. 

Within is found all the comfort, yea, even 
the luxury, of Dives ; while without is the 
simplicity of green fields* the grandeur of 
mountain heights, the lulling, soothing gurgle 
of lapping waves 
and health -giving 
ozone. The deep 
green of the red- 
wood trees forms 
a pleasing back- 
ground for the 
golden eschscholt- 
zias, the sweet- 
scented violets, 
and delicate fronds 
of the wild maiden- 
hair fern which 
carpet the fields 
almost within arm's 

The first " ark " 
was such a success 
that others ap- 
peared almost by 
magic, although 
the Nmitihts still 
bears the palm for 
uniqueness. Imita- 
tion — thatsincerest 

form of flattery — 
soon created a 
" town of arks " on 
the west side of San 
Francisco Bay, just 
over the way from 
the city of that 
name, within full 
view or the Golden 
Gate. If you are 
looking on the map 
for it, you will find 
it spelled t( BelvU 

During the sum- 
mer there are thirty 
or forty "arks " 
moored within easy 
reach of each other, 
and the constant 
stream of visitors 
coming and going 
for the "weekend," 
and other stated 
times, prove the 
popularity of the "ark " system. One of the 
pleasantest things about them is their power 
to expand : like the omnibus, there is always 
room for one more : the unexpected visitor 
never fails of a welcome and a bed some- 
where, even though it may be on the top of 
the dining-room table. 

There is an indescribable charm about 
the life; one has the pleasures of boating 



Original from 



combined with 
the "comforts of 
home*'; sea baths 
are at one's very 
threshold; fish 
are caught and 
cooked while you 
wait, in a manner 
that would give 
pleasure to any 
disciple of Izaak 
Walton, or even 
to that king of 
fishermen him- 

The monotony 
of the scenery is 
varied by the 
swinging of the 
ark , as it turns 
four times a day 
with the tide. 
There are neigh- 
hours, thirty or 
forty families of 
them, within easy 
reaching distance 
if one can pull a 
stroke, for there 
is always a follow- 
ing of row-boats 
lazily resting 
upon the water in the wake of each 4i ark." 

The economy of filthy lucre and the 
friction of daily life are evident when it is 

remembered that 
one has neither 

rent to pay 
taxes, only 

CnhSKH OK UfcUhin'M 

inevitable bills of 
4 'the butcher, the 
baker, and the 
candle - stick - 
maker," which he 
must meet daily 
wherever he takes 
his stand on this 
wide globe. 

The butcher, 
the baker, and 
others of that ilk 
who supply the 
needs of daily 
life have each his 
little boat, which 
he sends around 
every morning at 
the usual hour 
for his customary 
order, and the 
joint for dinner 
and the ice-cream 
for dessert are 
delivered as 
promptly to the 
"ark " dwellers 
as they are to 

those who are still in the city. 

The majority of " arks " in *this little town 

are built with a square deck-house, which is 


by GoOgic 

Original from 



divided into rooms according to the size of 
the (l ark" and the family of the owner. 
Some of them present that "curious com- 
bination of flat-bottomed punt and tasteful 
bijou residence, which finds its more florid 
expression on the reaches of the Thames ,J ; 
others are more pretentious, with resplendent 
upholstery, paint and varnish, and a look of 
newness that is rather a discordant note in 
an otherwise harmonious creation. 

To the generality of Americans this little 
town of u arks n would be, perhaps, more of 
a novelty than to the ordinary Englishman, 
for the reason that houseboats have been 
more or less of an institution in England 
since 1884. The boat-life on the Thames is 
an ideal existence ; a joy and delight for the 
time being, and a rose-coloured memory for 
all time to come. 

The American rivers are too characteristic- 
ally busy to encourage house-boating, though 
efforts in that direction are being made at 
the present time. Few of our people have 
yet sufficiently learned the delight of doke 
far nimte to introduce that acme of aquatic 
luxury. Most of us when we go in for 
aquatics at all want a boat with twin screws, 
triple expansion engines, and all the other 
means of "getting there." 

True, there are rare souls here and there, in 
our bustling commercial crowd, who steal away 
companioned congenially and earn for them- 
selves the criticism of being "queer,'* by taking 
a trip in a canal- boat through the various 
waterways of New York, Pennsylvania, and 
Delaware, but, compared to the great army of 
holiday seekers, they are in a small minority. 

A few years ago several members of the 
Tile Club fitted up a canal-boat with all the 
comfort of city studios and the luxury of 
beautiful hangings and odd bric-Jt-brac, and 
drifted lazily and happily away in the track 
of the setting sun. The result was health 
regained, a fine collection of sketches, and a 
most fascinating narrative of the trip pub- 
lished in one of the magazines. 

Later a quartette of artists — why is it that 
artists always do the nicest things? — went 
" Fnubbing Through New Jersey'' with a 
if plain, white -painted, three- hatched and 
pooped -cabined canal-boat, with two mules 
ahead and a rudder behind* There was a 
skipper to steer and his wife to help cook ; 
a deck-hand forward to ' snub ' the boat in 
the locks and take a line to the tow-path," 

"Snubbing" is a term used by boatmen 
for checking the impetus of boats on enter- 
ing a lock ; it is a common expression used 
by canallers. The advantage of a canal- 
bo&t, as stated by one of the four, is that if 
you come up against a stone wall or any 
other immovable obstacle, you can hitch the 
mules to the rudder-post and go home back- 

None of the house-boats mentioned have 
adopted the plan of decorating the border 
line of the deck-house with pots of flower- 
ing plants, which is one of the most pic- 
turesque features of the Thames boat. 
Many of them have awnings and deck 
chairs and settees, but there is lacking that 
cosy arrangement for afternoon tea which is 
such an important and pleasing feature of 
English boats. 


by Google 


Original from 

Sand Art. 

By Thomas K Curtis. 

Illustrations from Photographs taken expressly for George Nttvnes, Limited* 


T is worth a trip to America 
merely to see Mr, James 
Taylor model in sand. He 
works on the beach at Atlantic 
City, one of the most famous 
watering-places in the world, 
about sixty miles from Philadelphia, on the 
coast of New Jersey. Here, throughout the 
summer, Mr. Taylor, who stands head and 
shoulders above all his imitators in sand art, 
manipulates the dull and unadhesive material, 
turning it into veritable gems of sculpture. 

Unhappily, however, the labour of this 
clever man is ephemeral. The waves of old 
ocean ruthlessly wash away the artist's handi- 
work* There is a touch of sentiment in it t 
and the many thousands who have watched 
the artist moulding his fleeting figures within 
reach of the onward tide have not been 
less interested in the work because its life is 

The variety of subjects which have sprung 

from the worker's fertile brain is astonishing. 
Hardly a thing happens in the world, such 
as the blowing up of the Maine^ or the death 
of a noted man, but what sonic reproduction 
of it may be made with sand. The photo- 
graphs in this article show how varied Mr. 
Taylor's talents are, and how quick he is to 
seize upon the subject of momentary note_ 
for the interest of his countless onlookers. 
His last subject, recently done expressly for 
this Magazine, as shown by the illustration 
below, touches, we think, the highest he has 
yet reached in sand art, The beautiful figure 
on the sand, with its flowing drapery, is 
really amazing in the naturalness of its lines. 
When we consider the haste with which it 
must have keen made, and the material of 
which it is composed 3 it is certainly a cause 
of admiration. 

The tools with which the work is performed 
are two in number — a piece of wood and 
brains* In the centre of his circle of 


by GoOgic 


Original from 




v i mm** '* ■•- 


pleasure - seekers, the artist unassumingly 
collects a pile of damp sand, and, taking a 
small bit of wood from the beach, begins to 
carve his subject in the rough. If it is a 
bas-relief, such as the model of Gladstone, 
or w Love Rules the World," the tailpiece to 
our article, he first flattens the damp sand 
on one side, and then picks out his design 
with the sharp end of the stick. No matter 
what the subject, the touch of the artist is 
true, and the constant practice of years 
shows itself in the skill and rapidity with 
which the designs are concluded. When one 
is finished, no time is lost in beginning 

another, and thus between the tides we are 
likely to have made for us half-a-dozen sculp- 
tures, each successful, and each the cynosure 
of the passing throng- In the illustration 
above w** see four of these models : the two 
at the right representing President McKinley 
and General Lee, who, during the troublous 
times last year, were the two most- talked -of 
men in the country. At the left is a fanciful 
reproduction of the American summer girl, 
with her gay t( shirt-waist " and her jaunty air. 
When Gladstone died, over a year ago, a 
most speaking likeness of him in sand stood 
against one of the pier supports of Atlantic 

by Google 


Original from 




Beach. When the war broke out with Spain 
the American battleship was a popular subject 
for reproduction. No sooner did Hobson 
burst into heroic prominence than his now 
familiar features appeared on the Jersey sand, 

reproduce herewith. Others, of which we 
arc unable, through limitations of space, to 
reproduce the photographs, show classic and 
portrait subjects, One called u Late Arrivals " 
shows a mound of sand with three figures 


and the memorable victory at Manila was 
quickly followed by a model of Admiral 
Dewey in uniform* Some of these we have 
been able to catch with the camera and 

by v^C 


of people well known along the beach. 
Many of the photographs resemble our final 
illustration in showing the piers near which 
the sculptures are modelled. 
Original from 


! °5 

One of the most interesting things about 
our Atlantic City artist is that he has never 
had training of any sort Like many of 
the pavement artists in London, he fell into 
occupation by chance, guided to good results 
by an artistic instinct. But what a difference 
between this man and the pavement artist 
The one is up-to-date, versatile, and always 
moving forward with the times. The other, 
with just enough ingenuity to bring him a few 
daily pennies T rests content with the same 
pictures in coloured chalk from day to day 
until the passer-by gets weary of lighthouses, 
ships, and moons, A little more enterprise 
would doubtless make pavement art as profit- 
able as sand art is upon the American 

This, of course, is not to say that the sand 
artist is not known in England. On the 
south coast he is not an unfamiliar figure. At 
Shanklin, in the Isle of Wight, the seal which 
we show on the previous page, sent to us by 

Mr. A. Hugh Harper, Addiseombe Lodge, 
Thornton Heath, Surrey, was moulded by 
one of these men, and it certainly pos- 
sesses a naturalness which makes it come 
a close second to the American work. Hut 
on the English beaches one does not see 
variety in sand art. Here and there a man 
portrays a cathedral, a bridge, a castle, or 
perhaps a portrait of some celebrity* But it 
is usually done on the flat surface of the 
sand. This is more back-breaking, but less 
difficult, and less effective than the other. 

In any event, the art of sand modelling is 
not so easy as it looks — a fact that many of 
our readers may discover* Should they not 
fear the difficulties in the way, and should 
they be successful in sand art, we should 
welcome the privilege of looking over any 
snap-shots of their handiwork which they 
might care to send to us, and may publish 
a selection of the best in some future 

Vol, iviu,— 14 

by Google 

Original from 

By E, Nesbit. 

HE dark arch that led to the 
witch's cave was hung round 
with a black and yellow fringe 
of live snakes. As the Queen 
went in, keeping very carefully 
exactly in the middle of the 
arch ? all the snakes lifted their wicked, flat 
heads and stared at her with their wicked, 
yellow eyes. You know it is not manners 
to stare, even at a Queen* And the snakes 
had been so badly brought up that they 
even put their tongues out at the poor lady. 
Nasty, thin, sharp tongues they were, too. 

Now, the Queen's husband was, of course, 
the King. And besides being a King he 
was an enchanter, and considered to be 
quite at the top of his profession : so he was 
very wise, and he knew that when Kings and 
Queens want children, the Queen always 
goes to see a witch. So he gave the Queen 
the witch's address, and the Queen called on 
her, though she was very frightened and did 
not like it at alL The witch was sitting by 
a fire of sticks, stirring something bubbly in 
a shiny, copper cauldron. 

11 What do you want* my dear ? n she said 
to the Queen. 

"Oh, if you please," said the Queen, " I 
want a baby — a very nice one* We don't 
want any expense spared. My husband 
said " 

" Oh, yes," said the witch ; " I know all 
about him. And so you want a child ? Do 
you know it will bring you sorrow? " 

"It will bring me joy first," said the 

"Great sorrow," said the witch. 

" Greater joy," said the Queen. 

Then the witch said, " Well, have your 
own way. I suppose it's as much as your 
place is worth to go back without it ? " 

" The King would be very much annoyed/' 
said the poor Queen* 

" Well, well," said the witch; "what will 
you give me for the child ? " 

"Anything you ask for, and all I have," 
said the Queen, 

" Then give me your gold crown," 

The Queen took it off quickly, 



The Queen unfastened it. 

" And your pearl bracelets." 

The Queen unclasped them. 

" And your ruby clasps, " 

And the Queen undid the clasps. 

" Now the lilies from your breast" 

The Queen gathered together the lilies. 

" And the diamonds of your little bright 

The Queen pulled off her shoes. 

Then the witch stirred the stuff that was 
in the cauldron, and, one by one, she threw 
in the gold crown, and the sapphire necklace, 
and the pearl bracelets, and the ruby clasps, 
and the diamonds of the little bright shoe- 
buckles, and, last of all, she threw in the 

And the stuff in the cauldron boiled up in 
foaming flashes of yellow, and blue, and red, 
and white, and silver, and sent out a sweet 
scent, and presently the witch poured it out 
into a pipkin and set it to cool in the door- 
way among the snakes. 

Then she said to the Queen : " Your child 
will have hair as golden as your crown, eyes 
as blue as your sapphires. The red of your 
rubies will lie on its lips, and its skin will be 
clear white as your pearls. Its soul will be 
white and sweet as your lilies, and your 
diamonds will be no clearer than its wits." 

"Oh, thank you, thank you," said the 
Queen, " and when will it come ? " 

"You will find it when you get home." 

" And won't you have something for your- 
self?" asked the Queen. "Any little thing 
you fancy — would you like a country, or a 
sack of jewels ? " 

"Nothing, thank you," said the witch. 
" I could make more diamonds in a day than 
I could wear in a year." 

" Well, but do let me do some little thing 
for you," the Queen went on. " Aren't you 
tired of being a witch ? Wouldn't you like 
to be a duchess or a Princess, or something 
like that?" 

" There is one thing I should rather like," 
said the witch, " but it's hard to get in my 

" Oh, tell me what," said the Queen. 

" I should like someone to love me," said 
the witch. 

Then the Queen threw her arms round the 
witch's neck and kissed her half a hundred 
times. " Why," she said, " I love you better 
than my life. You've given me the baby — 
and the baby shall love you, too." 

" Perhaps it will," said the witch, " and 
when the sorrow comes send for me. Each 
of your fifty kisses will be a spell to bring me 

to you. Now, drink up your medicine, there's 
a dear, and run along home." 

So the Queen drank the stuff in the pipkin, 
which was quite cool by this time, and she 
went out under the fringe of snakes, and they 
all behaved like good Sunday-school children. 
Some of them even tried to drop a curtsy to 
her as she went by, though that is not eaby 
when you are hanging wrong way up by your 
tail. But the snakes knew the Queen was 
friends with their mistress ; so, of course, 
they had to do their best to be civil. 

When the Queen got home, sure enough 
there was the baby lying in the cradle, with 
the Royal arms blazoned on it, crying as 
naturally as possible. It had pink ribbons 
to tie up its sleeves : so the Queen saw at 
once it was a girl. When the King knew 
this he tore his black hair with fury. 

" Oh, you silly, silly Queen ! " he said. 
"Why didn't I marry a clever lady? Did 
you think I went to all the trouble and 
expense of sending you to a witch to get a 
girl? You knew well enough it was a boy I 
wanted — a boy, an heir, a Prince — to learn 
all my magic and my enchantments, and to 
rule the kingdom after me. I'll bet a crown 
— my crown," he said, "you never even 
thought to tell the witch what kind you 
wanted ! Did you now ? " 

And the Queen hung her head and had to 
confess that she had only asked for a child. 

" Very well, madam," said the King, " very 
well — have your own way. And make the 
most of your daughter, while she is a child." 

The Queen did. AH the years of her life 
had never held half so much happiness as 
now lived in each of the moments when she 
held her little baby in her arms. And the 
years went on, and the King grew more and 
more clever at magic, and more and more 
disagreeable at home, and the Princess grew 
more beautiful and more dear every day she 

The Queen and the Princess were feeding 
the gold-fish in the courtyard fountains with 
crumbs of the Princess's eighteenth birthday 
cake, when the King came into the court- 
yard, looking as black as thunder, with his 
black raven hopping after him. He shook 
his fist at his family, as indeed he generally 
did whenever he met them, for he was not a 
King with pretty home manners. The raven 
sat down on the edge of the marble basin 
and tried to peck the gold-fish. It was all 
he could do to show that he was in the same 
temper as his master. 

" A girl indeed ! " said the King, angrily. 
" I wonder yon oin clare to look me in the 





face, when you remember how your silliness 
has spoiled every thing/ 1 

" You oughtn't to speak to my mother 
like that," said the Princess, She was 
eighteen, and it came to her suddenly and all 
in a moment that she was a grown-up : so she 
spoke out. 

The King could not utter a word for 
several minutes. He was too angry. But 
the Queen said, " My dear child, don't inter- 
fere/' quite crossly, for she was frightened. 

And to her husband she said, i{ My dear, 
why do you go on worrying about it? Our 
daughter is not a boy, it is true — but she 
may marry a clever man who could rule your 
kingdom after you, and learn as much magic 
as ever you cared to teach him." 

Then the King round his tongue. 

M If she does marry, 31 he said, slowly, " her 
husband will have to be a very clever man — 
oh, yes, very clever indeed! And he will 
have to know a very great deal more magic 

Digiiizeoby V^OOQ It 

than / shall ever 
care to teach him," 
The Queen knew 
at once by the 
King's tone that he 
was going to be 

"Ah," she said, 
"don't punish the 
child because she 
loves her mother," 
"I'm not going 
to punish her for 
that™ said he; 
tl Vm only going 
to teach her to 
respect her father." 
And without 
another word he 
went off to his 
laboratory and 
worked all night, 
boiling different 
coloured things in 
crucibles, and copy- 
ing charms in 
curious twisted 
letters from old 
brown books with 
mould stains on 
their yellowy pages. 
The next day 
his plan was all 
arranged. He 
took the poor 
Princess to the 
Lone Tower f which 
stands on an island in the sea, a thousand 
miles from everywhere. He gave her a 
dowry, and settled a handsome income on 
her He engaged a competent dragon to 
look after her, and also a respectable griffin 
whose birth and bringing-up he knew all 
about. And he said : — 

u Here you shall stay, my dear, respectful 
daughter, till the clever man comes to marry 
you, He'll have to be clever enough to sail 
a ship through the Nine Whirlpools that spin 
round the island, and to kill the dragon and 
the griffin. Till he comes you'll never get 
any older or any wiser. No doubt he will 
soon come. You can employ yourself in 
embroidering your wedding gown. I wish 
you joy, my dutiful child." 

And his car, drawn by live thunderbolts 
(thunder travels very fast)> rose in the air and 
disappeared, and the poor Princess was left, 
with the dragon and the griffin, in the 
Island of the Mine Whirlpools, 




The Queen, left at home, cried for a day 
and a night, and then she remembered the 
witch and called to her. And the witch 
came, and the Queen told her all. 

"For the sake of the twice twenty-five 
kisses you gave me/' said the witch, M I will 
help you. But it is the last thing I can do, 
and it is not much. Your daughter is under 
a spell, and I can take you to hen But, if I 
do, you will have to be turned to stoae, and 
to stay so till the spell is taken off the child." 

" I would be a stone for a thousand years/' 
said the poor Queen, "if at the end of them 
I could see my Dear again." 

So the witch took the Queen in a car 
drawn by live sunbeams (which travel more 
quickly than anything else in the world, and 
much quicker than thunder), and so away 
and away to the Lone Tower on the Island 
of the Nine YVhirlpools. 
And there was the 
Princess sitting on the 
floor in the best room of 
the Lone Tower, crying 
as if her heart would 
break, and the dragon 
and the griffin were 
sitting primly on each 
side of her 

"Oh, mother, mother, 
mother/ 5 she cried, and 
hung round the Queen's 
neck as if she would 
never let go. 

"Now," said the witch, 
when they had all cried 
as much as was good 
for them, M I can do one 
or two other little things 
for you. Time shall not 
make the Princess sad. 
All days will be like one 
day till her deliverer 
comes, And you and 
I, dear Queen, will sit 
in stone at the gate of 
the tower. In doing this 
for you I lose all my 
witch's powers, and when 
I say the spell that 
changes you to stone, 
I shall change with you, 
and if ever we come out 
of the stone, I shall be 
a witch no more, but 
only a happy old 
woman. tT 

Then the three kis&ed 
each other again and 

again, and the witch said the spell, and 
on each side of the door there was now a 
stone lady, One of them had a stone crown 
on its head and a stone sceptre in its hand ; 
but the other held a stone tablet with words 
on it, which the griffin and the dragon could 
not read, though they had both had a very 
good education. 

And now all days seemed like one day 
to the Princess, and the next day always 
seemed the day when her mother would 
come out of the stone and kiss her again. 
And the years went slowly by. 

The wicked King died, and someone else 
took his kingdom, and many things were 
changed in the world ; bui the island did not 
change, nor the Nine Whirlpools, nor the 
griffin, nor the dragon, nor the two stone 
ladies. And all the time, from the very first, 







the day of the Princess's deliverance was 
coming, creeping nearer, and nearer, and 
nearer. But no one saw it coming except 
the Princess, and she only in dreams. And 
the years went by in tens and in hundreds, 
and still the Nine Whirlpools spun round, 
roaring in triumph the story of many a good 
ship that had gone down in their swirl, bear- 
ing with it some Prince who had tried to win 
the Princess and her dowry. And the great 
sea knew all the other stories of the Princes 
who had come from very far, and had seen 
the whirlpools, and had shaken their wise 
heads and said : " 'Bout ship ! " and gone 
discreetly home to their nice, safe, comfort- 
able kingdoms. 

But no one told the story of the deliverer 
who was to come. And the years went by. 

Now, after more scores of years than you 
would like to add up on your slate, a certain 
sailor-boy sailed on the high seas with his 
uncle, who was a skilled skipper. And the boy 
could reef a sail, and coil a rope, and keep 
the ship's nose steady before the wind. And 
he was as good a boy as you would find in a 
month of Sundays, and worthy to be a 

Now there is Something which is wiser 
than all the world — and it knows when 
people are worthy to be Princes. And this 
Something came from the farther side of the 
seventh world, and whispered in the boy's 

And the boy heard, though he did not 
know he heard — and he looked out over the 
black sea with the white foam horses gallop- 
ing over it, and far away he saw a light. And 
he said to the skipper, his uncle : — 

"What light is that?" 

Then the skipper said, "All good things 
defend you, Nigel, from sailing near that 
light. It is not mentioned in all charts ; but 
it is marked in the old chart I steer by, 
which was my father's father's before me, and 
his father's father's before him. It is the 
light that shines from the Lone Tower that 
stands above the Nine Whirlpools. And 
when my father's father was young he heard 
from the very old man, his great-great-grand- 
father, that in that tower an enchanted 
Princess, fairer than the day, waits to be 
delivered. But there is no deliverance : so 
never steer that way ; and think no more of 
the Princess, for that is only an idle tale. 
But the whirlpools are quite real." 

So, of course, from that day Nigel thought 
of nothing else. And as he sailed hither 
and thither upon the high seas he saw from 

time to time the light that shone out to sea 
across the wild -swirl of the Nine Whirlpools. 
And one night, when the ship was at anchor 
and the skipper asleep in his bunk, Nigel 
launched the ship's boat and steered alone 
over the dark sea towards the light. He 
dared not go very near till daylight should 
show him what, indeed, were the whirlpools 
he had to dread. 

But when the dawn came he saw the Lone 
Tower stand dark against the pink and prim- 
rose of the east — and about its base the 
sullen swirl of black water, and he heard the 
wonderful roar of it So he hung off, and 
all that day and for six days besides. And 
when he had watched seven days he knew 
something. For you are certain to know 
something if you give for seven days your 
whole thought to it, even though it be only 
the first declension, or the nine-times table, 
or the dates of the Norman Kings. 

What he knew was this : that for five 
minutes out of the 1,440 minutes that make 
up a day the whirlpools slipped into silence, 
while the tide went down and left the yellow 
sand bare. And every day this happened, 
but every day it was five minutes earlier than 
it had been the day before. He made sure of 
this by the ship's chronometer, which he had 
thoughtfully brought with him. 

So on the eighth day at five minutes 
before noon Nigel got ready. But when the 
whirlpools suddenly stopped whirling and 
the tide sank, like water in a basin that has a 
hole in it, he stuck to his oars and put his 
back into his stroke, and presently beached the 
boat on the yellow sand. Then he dragged 
her into a cave, and sat down to wait 

By five minutes and one second past noon, 
the whirlpools were black and busy again, and 
Nigel peeped out of his cave. And on the 
rocky ledge overhanging the sea he saw a 
Princess as beautiful as the day, with golden 
hair and a green gown — and he went out to 
meet her. 

" I've come to save you," he said. " How 
darling and beautiful you are ! " 

" You are very good, and very clever, and 
very dear," said the Princess, smiling and 
giving him both her hands. 

He shut a little kiss in each hand before 
he let them go. 

" So now, when the tide is low again, I will 
take you away in my boat," he said. 

"But what about the dragon and the 
griffin?" asked the Princess. 

"Dear me," said Nigel; "I didn't know 
about them. I suppose I can kill them ? " 



e Princess, 




pretending to be very grown-up T for, though 
she had been on the island Time only knows 
how many years, she was still only eighteen, 
and she still liked pretending. " You haven't 
a sword, or a shield, or anything ! " 

"Well, don't the beasts ever go to 

H Why, yes," said the Princess, " but only 
once in twenty-lour hours, and then the 
dragon is turned to stone. But the griffin 
has dreams. The griffin sleeps at tea-time 
every day, but the dragon sleeps every 
day for five minutes, and every day it 
is three minutes later than it was the day 

"What time does he sleep to-day?" asked 

"At eleven," said the Princess. 

"Ah," said Nigel, "can you do sums?" 

"No," said the Princess, sadly. "I was 
never good at them." 

" Then I must," said Nigel. " I can ; but 
it's slow work, and it makes me very un- 
happy. It'll take me days and days." 

"Don't begin yet," said the Princess; 
"you'll have plenty of time to be unhappy 
in when Fm gone. Tell me all about vour- 

So he did. And then she told him all 
about herself. 

" I know I've been here a long time/' she 
said, " but I don't know what time is. And 
I am very busy sewing silk flowers in a 
golden gown for my wedding-day. And the 
griffin does the housework — his wings are so 
convenient and feathery for sweeping and 
dusting ; and the dragon does the cooking : 
he's hot inside, so, of course, it's no trouble 
to him ; and though I don't know what time 
is I'm sure it's time for my w F edding-day, 
because my golden gow r n only wants one 
more white daisy on the sleeve, and a lily on 
the bosom of it, and then it will be ready." 

Just then they heard a dry, rustling clatter 
on the rocks above them and a snorting 

" It's the dragon," said the Princess, 
hurriedly. " Good-bye. Be a good boy, 
and get your sum done." And she ran away 
and left him to his arithmetic. 

Now the sum was this : " If the whirlpools 
stop and the tide goes down once in every 
twenty-four hours, and gets five minutes 
earlier every twenty-four hours, and if the 
dragon sleeps every day, and does it three 
minutes later every day* in how many days 




and at what time in the day will the tide go 
down three minutes before the dragon falls 

It is quite a simple sum, as you see : you 
could do it in a minute because you have 
been to a good school, and have taken pains 
with your lessons ; but it was quite otherwise 
with poor Nigel, He sat down to work out 
his sum with a piece of chalk on a smooth 
stone. He tried it by practice and the 
unitary method, by multiplication, and by 
rule-of-three-and-three-quarters. He tried it 
by decimals and by com- 
pound interest. lie tried 
it by square -root and 
by cube-root, He tried 
it by addition, simple 
and otherwise, and he 
tried it by mixed ex- 
amples in vulgar frac- 
tions. But it was all 
of no use* Then he 
tried to do the sum 
by algebra, by simple 
and by quadratic equa- 
tions, by trigonometry, 
by logarithms, and by 
conic sections* But it 
would not do. He got 
an answer every time, it 
is true, but it was always 
a different one, and he 
could not feel sure which 
answer was right. 

And just as he was 
feeling how much more 
important than anything 
else it is to be able to do 
your sums, the Princess 
came back. And now it 
was getting dark. 

" Why, you've been 
seven hours over that 
sum," she said, i( and 
you haven't done it yet. 
Look here, this is what 
is written on the tablet 
of the statue by the lower gate. It has 
figures in it. Perhaps it is the answer to 
the sum." 

She held out to him a big white magnolia 
leaf. And she had scratched on it with 
the pin of her pearl brooch, and it had 
turned brown where she had scratched it, as 
magnolia leaves will do. Nigel read :— 

He clapped his hands softly, 

u Dear Princess/ 1 he said, " I know that's 
the right answer, It says R, too, you see. 
But 1*11 just prove it." So he hastily worked 
the sum backwards in decimals and equa- 
tions and conic sections, and all the rules he 
could think of. And it came right every 

"So now we must wait," said he. And 
they waited. 

And every day the Princess came to see 
Nigel and brought him food cooked by the 




T ii. 24 

D if* 27 Ans. 

R5. — And 1 ho griffin is artificial. 

dTUgon, and he lived in his cave, and talked 
to her when she was there, and thought about 
her when she was not, and they were both as 
happy as the longest day in summer. Then 
at last came The Day. Nigel and the 
Princess laid their plans. 

u You're sure he won't hurt you, my only 
treasure ? " said Nigel. 

" Quite," said the Princess. " I only wish 
i were half as sure that he wouldn't hurt 
R. "My PriWJM^I'^U tenderly, "two 




great powers are on our side ; the power of 
Love and the power of Arithmetic Those 
two are stronger than anything eke in the 

So when the tide began to go down 
Nigel and the Princess ran out on to the 

engines all letting off steam at the top of 
their voices inside Cannon Street Station, 

And the two lovers stood looking up at 
the dragon. He was dreadful to look at. 
His head was white with age — and his beard 
had grown so long that he caught his claws 

"-■'■■ kX s 

r ■ * ' - ' . 


Jik i!k*:atmi-:jj i ikk tux tjik wi-t sa*u H^EP AGAIN, 

sands, and there, full in sight of the terrace 
where the dragon kept watch, Nigel took his 
Princess in his arms and kissed her. The 
griffin was busy sweeping the stairs of the 
Lone Tower, but the dragon saw, and he 
gave a cry of rage— and it was like twenty 

Vol xviii.— IG, 

gilized by GOOgle 

in it as he walked. His 

wings were white with 

the salt that had settled 

on them from the spray 

of the sea. His tail 

was long and thick and 

jointed and white, and 

hud little k'gs to it, any 

number of them — far too 

many so that it looked like a 

very large fa l silkworm ; and his 

claws were as long as lessons, 

and as sharp as bayonets. 

11 Good - bye, lo ve ! u cried 
Nigel, and ran out across the 
yellow sand towards the sea. 
He had one end of a cord tied 
to his arm. 

The dragon was clambering 

down the face of the cliff, and 

next moment he was crawling 

and writhing and sprawling and 

wriggling across the beach after 

Nigel, making great holes in the sand with 

his heavy feet— and the very end of his tail, 

where there were no legs, made as it dragged 

a mark in the sand such as you make when 

you launch a boat ; and he breathed fire till 

the w r et sand hissed again, and the water of 

Original from 




the little rock pools got quite frightened, 
and all went off in steam. 

And still Nigel held on and the dragon 
after him. 

The Princess could see nothing for the 
steam, and she stood crying bitterly, but still 
holding on tight with her right hand to the 
other end of the cord which Nigel had told 
her to hold ; while with her left she held the 
ship's chronometer, and looked at it through 
her tears as he had bidden her look, so as to 
know when to pull the rope. 

On went Nigel over the sand, and on went 
the dragon after him. And the tide was low, 
and sleepy little waves lapped the sand's 

Now at the lip of the water Nigel paused 
and looked back, and the dragon made a 
bound, beginning a scream of rage that was 
like aU the engines of all the railways in 
England. But it never uttered the second 
half of that scream, for now it knew suddenly 
that it was sleepy— it turned to hurry back 
to dry land, because sleeping near whirlpools 
is so unsafe. But before it reached the 
shore sleep caught it and turned it to stone. 
And Nigel, seeing this, ran shoreward for his 
life — and the tide began to flow in, and the 
time of the whirlpool's sleep was nearly 
over, and he stumbled and he waded and 
he swam, and the Princess pulled for dear 
life at the cord in her hand, and pulled him 
up on to the dry shelf of rock just as the 
great sea dashed in and made itself once 
more into the girdle of Nine Whirlpools all 
round the island. 

But the dragon was asleep under the 
whirlpools, and when he woke up from being 
asleep he found he was drowned, so there 
was an end of him. 

" Now, there's only the griffin," said Nigel. 
And the Princess said : — 

" Yes —only " And she kissed Nigel 

and went back to sew the last leaf of the 
last lily on the bosom of her wedding gown. 
And she thought and thought of what was 
written on the stone above the griffin being 
artificial -and next day she said to Nigel : — 

" You know a griffin is half a lion and 
half an eagle, and the other two halves when 
they're joined make the leo-griff. But I've 
never seen him. Yet I have an idea." 

So they talked it over and arranged every- 

Then when the griffin fell asleep that after- 
noon at tea-time, Nigel went softly behind 
him and trod on his tail, and at the same 
time the Princess cried : " Look out ! there's 
a lion l)ehind you.* 

by Google 

And the griffin, waking suddenly from his 
dreams, twisted his large neck round to look 
for the lion, and saw a lion's flank, and 
fastened its eagle beak in it For the griffin 
had been artificially made by the King- 
enchanter, and the two halves had never 
really got used to each other. So now the 
eagle half of the griffin, w£o was still rather 
sleepy, believed that it was fighting a lion, 
and the lion-part, being half asleep, thought it 
was fighting an eagle, and the whole griffin in 
its deep drowsiness hadn't the sense to pull 
itself together and remember what it was 
made of. So the griffin rolled over and over, 
one end of it fighting with the other, till the 
eagle end pecked the lion end to death, and 
the lion end tore the eagle end with its claws 
till it died And so the griffin that was made 
of a lion and an eagle perished, exactly as if 
it had been made of Kilkenny cats. 

" Poor griffin," said the Princess, " it was 
very good at the house-work. I always liked 
it better than the dragon : it wasn't so hot- 

And at that moment there was a soft, 
silky rush behind the Princess, and there was 
her mother, the Queen, who had slipped out 
of the stone statue directly the griffin was 
dead, and now came hurrying to take her 
dear daughter in her arms. The witch was 
clambering slowly off her pedestal She was 
a little stiff with standing still so long. 

When they had all explained everything 
over and over to each other as many times 
as was good for them, the witch said : — 

"Well, but what about the whirlpools?" 
And Nigel said he didn't know. Then the 
witch said : " I'm not a witch any more. 
I'm only a happy old woman, but I know 
some things still. Those whirlpools were 
made by the enchanter -King's dropping 
nine drops of his blood into the sea. And 
his blood was so wicked that the sea has 
been trying ever since to get rid of it, and 
that made the whirlpools. Now you've only 
got to go out at low tide " 

So Nigel understood and went out at low 
tide, and found in the sandy hollow left by 
the first whirlpool a great red ruby. And 
that was the first drop of the wicked King's 
blood. And next day Nigel found another, 
and next day another, and so on till the 
ninth day, and then the sea was as smooth 
as glass. 

The nine rubies were used afterwards in 
agriculture. You had only to throw them 
out into a field if you wanted it ploughed. 
Then the whole surface of the land turned 
itself over in its anxiety to get rid of some- 




thing so wicked, and in the morning the field 
was found to bo ploughed as thoroughly as 
any young man at Oxford. So the wicked 
King did some good after all. 

When the sea was smooth, ships came from 
far and wide bringing people to hear the 
wonderful story. And a beautiful palace was 
built, and the Princess was married to Nigel 
in her gold dress, and they all lived happily 
as long as was good for them. 

The dragon still lies, a stone dragon on 
the sand, and at low tide the little children 
play round him and over him. But the 

pieces that were left of the griffin w^re 
buried under the herb-bed in the palace 
garden j because it had been so good at 
house -work , and it wasn't its fault that 
it had been made so badly and put to 
such poor work as guarding a lady from 
her lover, 

I have no doubt that you will wish to 
know what the Princess lived on during the 
long years when the dragon did the cooking. 
My dear, she lived on her income : and that 
is a thing which a great many people would 
like to be able to do. 


by Google 

Original from 


[ IVt shall rV giad to mtwe Cotiirthuiions la ihis ieciwn % and /t> pay fir sack as art awe/ftd.] 

The kittlcfield scene shown in ihe two photographs 
reproduced on this page is not a phase of the Hispano- 
American War, but a clever minium re worked out in 
sand with toy soldiers, by Mr. Edward R. Jackson, 
Ji379> 8th Avenue, Oakland, California. It only 
occupied a small pi a I Form about 6ft, square, and was 
constructed in the open air. With his hands as tools 
Mr. Jackson built a range of hills as a background, 
scooped out a valley in front of lb em, constructed a 
M-iid from ibe left d:mn the \ alley, and extended it 
toward the centre of the foreground, finishing the 
topography of his sand -pile by making a small knoll 
to the right of the centre of the foreground. The 
soldiers he used in the first instance were cut out of 
pictures relating to the war with Spain, published in the 
magazines, but from a photographic point of view they 
were not a success, However, a small Iwjy of his ac- 
quaintance came forward with the offer of his toy 


soldiers, am) placed at Mr* Jackson's command three or 
four batteries of light artillery, a battery of heavy artil- 
lery^ three or four troops of cavalry, nearly a regiment 
of infantry, tents, and even a small grove of lead trees 
and a few lead picks and shrubs. With such an 
amount of material at his disposal it was quite uii 
easy matter to complete the scene, additional realism 
being imparted to it by the introduction of a few 
hurriedly constructed wood fences. il With every- 
thing in position," Mr, Jackson adds, " there 
remained but one thing to be done. The sun, 
which had favoured me so far in my work, 
now turned traitor, and hid itself behind a huge 
black cloud The sky, in fact, was heavily overcast, 
and threatened to produce a shower at any moment, 
so I photographed the miniature IsiUlefield without 
delay. Half an hour later, all that was left of it was 
a shapeless pile of sand.' 1 

Copyright, [899, by Gtorgc Ntwncs, Limited, 

by Google 

Original from 



4 ■■ DOUBLE- 


The particularly 
humorous feature 
Li 1 m out next photo- 
graph is the grinning 
caricature of ■ face 
worn by the man 
standing in a. stooping 
position the second 
from the right. The 
explanation lies in 
the fact that being 
lialdheaded he has 
had another face 
painted on the top 
of his scalp, and in 
the photograph he is 
merely landing down 
in order to show the 
curious effect to full 
advantage. The 
photograph was for- 
warded by Mr. D. F. 
Campbell, Old Hun- 
stan ton > Norfolk* 

An extremely interesting 
novelty in jugs is shown in our 
next photograph, which has 
beer* taken by Mr* Robert F. 
D&)S 3Ii New York Avenue, 
Brooklyn s N.Y. The pitcher 
ur jug is abou 1 Sin. high and 
4^in. diameter at the top. It 
will hold a litlle over a quart of 
liquid. The neck or narrow 
part is of oj>en fretwork, which 
prevents its usage as an ordinary 
jug. On the oil I tide of the bowl 
are the following lines, written 
in Old English style : — 

your skill , 
l M r aRcr "" 

Htre t gentlemen, come try vc 
111 h>.']i.l a wauer if you ivill 
That you i\m\\ <!rjnl> ihj^ liquor all 
Without you spill or let some fall. 

The innocent, thirsty traveller 
who ventures to drink out of 
ihis pitcher from the top or usual 
place will have the conlcnls 

spilled upon his shirt-front unless 
he happen to understand the 
secret. The handle is a hollow 
lube, although outwardly hear- 
ing no indication of the fact, 
whilst inside the bowl of the 
pitcher near the bottom is a 
small hole through which the 
liquid passes into the handle and 
around the top to the nose. 
There are also two openings in 
the sides of the pitcher at the 
top* Whoever essays to drink 
must cover these two holes 
with his fingers , holding the 
jug perpendicularly, and then 
suck through the nose, where 
there is a small hole. 

The accompanying photo- 
graph, sent by Mr. J. A. Re id, 
oF CutclifYe Grove, Bedford, 
was taken by Mr* Lewis Med- 
land, of North Finchley, 
at the annual tradesmen's 
fe te a l W het stone, N. It 
depicts an incident in the 
bill - posting race* The 
Competitors had to stand 
on a given line l ooyds. 
from the boards, each 
with a pail of paste, a 
brush, and a poster. 
They then had to race to 
the hoards, paste and 
stick up their bills, and 
run I »ack to the starting 
1 joint, the prize going to 
the competitor who suc- 
ceeded in pasting up his 
bill in the neatest and 
quickest manner, The 
competitor on the right 
promises to lie a likely 


Original from 




Few photographers of the present 
day, amateur or otherwise, have the 
opport unity of snap - shotting the 
King of Beasts as he stands free and 
fearlessly out on open ground. Yet 
the intrepid photographer seems to 
have had such an opport unity here, 
and, what is more, availed himself 
of it to the Fullest extent. There 
seems, in fact, such an air of realism 
about the picture, ue confess to A 
feeling of hesitancy in having to 
admit that the noble lion here is but 
a foot and a half high, and does not 
roam till a string in his side is pulled 
with considerable force. In short, it 
is a beautiful Parisian toy, with a 
hide- covered body, an exquisitively 
coloured lawny mane, a head that 
wags at the slightest touch, and a 
jaw that opens and shuts in quite a 
hungry manner, whilst the "jungle " 
from which he appears to be so 
majestically emerging is coui]>osed of 
pampas grass placed against a hedge* The photograph 
was sent in by Miss Emmons, care of Lady Hard man, 
55, Carlisle Place Mansions, Victoria Street, S*W\ 


This is not a snap-shot of a contortionist, nor of a 

man making vain attempts to II v\ It represents 

J. S. Kwcn, of Aberdeen, a weli- known Highland 

athletic champion, just after delivering a light hall 

in by Mr, Harry S- Luuisden, iS, Bon -Accord Cres- 
cent, Aberdeen, 

All sorts of curious and unlooked-for effects can l>e 
obtained by focusing objects with the camera held in 
a perpendicular position. In this instance Mr, N. 
Powell, of Lower Heeding Vicarage, Horsham, 
Sussex, placed his camera on the ground and pointed 
it upwards at a horse's neck and head. The effect as 
seen in the photograph is somewhat of a cross 
between a camel and a giraffe, though in neither case 
do the features come out very clearly ; in fact, there is 
such a shadowy vagueness about the spectral-like 
creature, it might stand for almost anything — from a 
blotch of ink to a passing cloud of smoke. 

from a J 14 ft, spring in a throwing competition. The 
ball has left the hand alwuit 6fL or 7ft., and the 
thrower is in the act of balancing himself in order to 
prevent a follow -over the mark. The camera caught 
him just as he was swinging round to the left on the 
one leg, and it is in this long and rapid stroke that 
the secret of this athlete's prowess is said to lie. 
The action is partly natural ant I partly acquired, 
through long practice with (Gideon Pcrrie, I he 
American champion. The pho<o, was taken and s^nt 

by Google 

Original from 





The house shown in the accompanying illustration 
does not present a very imposing spectacle for the 
parade of ei fashionable seaside resort , never *^— 
thelcss it may be seen at the little east coast 
watering-place of Felixstowe, Suffolk, where 
its peculiar surroundings have made it an 
object of curiosity to many visitors* Adjoin- 
ing the house on cither side there is a plot of 
building ground for sale, and as the house 
belongs to a different owner the holder of the 
plots has erected these hoardings in order to 
claim his right to the use of ** light and air," 
so that no objection may be lodged when the 
adjacent sites are built upon. The hoardings 
run the entire length of the house at each 
end, and extend to the upper windows, so 
that the occupiers have to rest content with 
taking their view of the outside world from 
the front only, Photo, by W, Girling, Strad- 
brook e, sent by Mr. E. Bond, The Rookery, 
Eye, Suffolk. 

Mr. E. N. St. Stephens » Thyra Mouse, 
North Finch ley, the sender of this photo 

graph, writes: **At 
Pachim, on the Bang- 
jiakong River, in Siani, 
there was formerly a 
mill for the extraction 
of gold from quartz o Il- 
ia ine< I from a mine up 
country. The works 
were afterwards removed 
to the mine itself, and 
the buildings at Pachim 
demolished with the ex- 
ception of the chimney* 
Since then a tree has 
grown up from the base 
inside the chimney, and 
now spreads nut its 
branches from the top, 
as can be seen in Ihe 
photograph. The chim- 
ney is approximately 
40ft. high, and the 
interior almost entirely filled by the trunk. The 
photo, was taken by Mr. R, dc Stephen in January 
last, when we were leaving the country." 



Jm Bfe 

1 1 . tF JBffl^B 


The next photograph we reproduce 
depicts a not un common sight in parts of 
the country where moles abound. Here 
we see the manner in which the mole- 
caicher strings his victims up when cap- 
tured, *' chalking up his score/ 1 so to 
speak, against the farmer, who is thus 
enabled to see that he has faithfully done 
his work. In this instance the moles 
have been fastened by string to a dead 
bough, but sometimes one sees the in 
simply suspended on a hawthorn hedge 
by running a thorn through the animal's 
nose. It is really wonderful the dexterity 
the mole-catcher displays in tracking his 
quarry, which in itself is a task requiring 
much keenness of perception and the 
exercise of no end of patience. Our 
pli olograph, which has been sen I in by 
Mr. T, R. Undges, of 24, Pay ton Street, 
Stral ford-on- Avon, cmivcys but an in- 
adequate conception of the extent of the 
"kill" a really expert mole-catcher will 
accomplish in the course of a day. 


34 #* 




The cur imis orna- 
ment at ion seen in 
the bottle shown 
herewith has l>een 
worked nut in sand 
of variegated 
colours by Mr. 
W. 5, O'Brien, 
McGregor, Iowa, 
The sand was pro- 
cured from the 
Pi et sired Rocks, 
but Mr. O'Brien 
says I hat it is im- 
possible to expect 
a photo* to do jus- 
tice to the brilliant t 
unfadablc colours 
he has used, of 
which there arc no 
fewer thnn sixteen. 
The sand is put 
into the bottle 
loose and dry, and 
is J jacked so tightly 
that no amount of 
jarring can mix it. 

JWu. by A. J/umiiift MtGr*i,&r, /oiwt. 

face, Mr, C F, Collier, of 7* 

S.W., is the sender, 

Our next photo, shows lis the back uf a large house in 
Co. Wcstmealh, Ireland, the particular feature about which 
is the curiously designed windows, which were built that 
shape in accordance with a whim of the owner because he 
wanted them to match the hecks of the arm-chairs in his 
dining-room. The sender of the photograph, Mr. Kichard 
Reynell, 37, Wilfred Street, Rose Hi 11 , Derby, states that 
the house is now goine; to ruin* 


This is a snap shot of a dog jumping after a ball, which was fastened 
upon the wall * but which has not come into the picture. The effect is 
strikingly curious, for the fox- terrier has all the appearance of crawling 
up the wall. A still more surprising resuU would have beet) attained had 
the chair on the left* from which no doubt the jump was made, been 
removed, but of course there would not lie time to do this* If the photo- 
graph is held sideways, 

the dog appears to k f t t — ~ "■ 

running on a level sur- 
Chelsea Embankment, 

It is not luo much to say that horse-shoes 
vary in some particular or another in 
almost every country. The accompanying 
photograph shows the style of shoe affected 
in Palestine, and a very substantial, durable 
piece of footgear it looks, to be sure. Notice 
the size of the p]ate, and the position of 
the nail -holes. On the stony tracks in 
Palestine, which fulfil the purjiose of roads 
for all except Kmperors, a horse is less 
liable to injury when slmd in this fashion. 
Sender of photo., Mr, Wm, Herrington, 
Cuck field, Sussex, 

Original from 

(""rw^nL'' Original from 


by Google 

Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xviii. 

AUGUST, 1899. 

No. j 04. 

Illustrated Interviews. 


DRAMATIST in colour. 
That, in a word, is Marcus 
Stone. No one who looks, 
oven cursorily, :a <>ne of his 
pictures can fail to realize 
the effect or to discover the 
play upon the emotions which the drama- 
tist in words uses in the evolution of his 
more diffuse, but not less highly specialized, 

The son of an artUt, an Associate of the 
Royal Academy, of which he has himself 
been for twelve years a full member, the 
student of heredity may see the reason for 
Mr. Stone's allegi- 
ance to art. His 
difficulty will arise 
when he has to 
explain the fact 
that Mr. Stone 
never had any so- 
called real tuition 
in his life^ and 
owes none of the 
early bias which 
he showed to- 
wards his profes- 
sion to direct in- 
fluence, for at the 
time when he 
decided to be a 
painter he was 
practically a 
stranger to the 
arena of the 
studio — even his 

The first step 
in any direction is 
always an interest- 
ing one to dis- 
cover, so the day 
Mr. Stone re- 
ceived me in the 
studio in his magnificent house in the 
Melbury Road, my first question was, 
naturally, when he first began to draw, 

" I can't tell you," he said ; u I have no 
recollection of the time when I did not draw. 

Vol. xviiL— fG, 

jitized by \jOOglC 

Ftfmi a. Phut&. by {j^tfjnpe A7ini<< Limitest 

I know I was scribbling when I was four 
years old, and I have some sketches which 
were preserved from rny very youthful days, 
before I had ever even seen a picture, I 
was looking over thern only a few days ago, 
and I confess that though they do not appear 
to me at all remarkable as sketches, even for 
a child of my then years, they were remark- 
able for the particular child that I was, for of 
art education I had had absolutely none. 
What of the artist I have in me was developed 
by circumstances, for although my father was 
an artist, I saw nothing of him as such until 
I was ten years of age. My father's studio 

was in London, 
and we as child- 
ren lived in the 
country, or what 
was then the 
country, in the 
north of London 
— Bushey> Hen- 
don, and Finchley. 
In those days— 
for I am speaking 
of half a century 
ago— locomotion 
was difficult, and 
my father came 
down only two 
or three times a 
week, and we 
never went to 
London- Even 
then, the meanest 
little picture-book 
was a prize to 
me, and I trea- 
sured every scrap 
of pictorial illus- 
tration which I 
could possibly pro- 
cure, for I could 
count on the 
fingers of my two hands the picture-books 
of my childhood. There wjis no Strand 
Magazine then, and no wealth of graphic 
representation such as exists now for the 
delight of childhood. 




T I i K F I RST U IV K- I.K 11 K hL 

Bit wmfaritm of Arthur Lnca*, w, ttaker Stmt, IF,, jwopridrtr *j/ (Ac CbpyrifJU. 

[.»l«rrN4 JHftM, ft. .L 

" When I was about ten years old I went 
to live hi London, My great recreation was 
to go to the Royal Academy, and no week 
of my life passed without my seeing pictures, 
so that I soon got a world of art of my own." 

fl Pictor nascitur non fit," I murmured, 
changing the quotation slightly. " When did 
you decide on becoming an artist? " 

41 1 always decided on that. Certainly I never 
desired to be anything else than a painter* 
At ten I was allowed to go into my father's 
studio ; but it was not until I was sixteen 
that I began to take up the pursuit of art 
seriously- My time before then was devoted 
to my general education. I fancy, though, 
I put more into my books in those days than 
I took out of them, for I filled them with 
sketches, as I filled every available scrap of 
paper that came into my possession. I re- 
member when I was quite a little fellow that 
one day a bill came in from the local shoe- 
maker, which my mother was sure had been 
paid. The receipt was searched for high and 
low, but it was not forthcoming. At length 
I was interrogated on the subject I over- 
hauled my sketches, and on the back of the 
receipt was a picture which might have been 
inscribed, 4 Marcus Stone fecit/ 

"The first studio except my father's I ever 
was in was Frith's. On one occasion I went 
to him with a message, and as a great kind- 
ness he allowed me to stay and watch him 
while he was at work. He was painting 

by Google 

some drapery which lay on a piece of paper 
on the dais, or throne, in his studio, as it re- 
presented a robe on the floor of his picture. 
I went roaming about from place to place, 
and accidentally kicked the paper wit!) my 
foot and turned it completely round. Frith 
groaned aloud, but he was kindness itself, 
and didn't say anything. I was fully alive 
to the enormity of the offence I had com- 
mitted, and expected to be forthwith ordered 
out of the room, but happily that fate was 
not meted out to me, and by a little re- 
arrangement Frith found that I had not done 
very much harm, 

11 On another occasion I went to see 
I^ndseer, when he was finishing his picture 
'Saved' — you rememher the subject: a dog 
who has saved the life of a little boy* 
Landseer was painting the pebbles on the 
beach, and, to my youthful imagination, they 
seemed far more like potatoes than stones. 
That impression still remains with me as the 
result of a recent inspection of the picture. 

"Landseer I remember as a remarkable 
talker, with that extraordinary power of 
telling a story which makes it impossible for 
anyone to tell it after him. A few weeks 
before he was seized with the mental malady 
which practically killed him, three years 
before he died, 1 saw him, and he told me a 
story. He had been at Windsor, where he 
was always received with special distinction, 
and the train m which he was travelling 





back to London was invaded at a quiet 
station by a party returning from a prize- 
fight, The officials were unable to cope 
with them, and the defeated combatant 
and his second were put into the carriage 
which had been specially reserved for 
Land seer, *Whal was the. man like?' I 
asked ; ' was he badly knocked about ? ' 
1 He looked very pale/ replied I^andseer ; 
' he was wrapped up in a blanket, and he 
moaned a good 
deal. He was very 
wet and he smelt 
of lemon/ The way 
in which the last 
four words were 
spoken was inimit- 
able, and conveyed 
in a most lucid 
manner the idea of 
the prize-fighter 
of those days, 
who was revived 
between the rounds 
by being sponged 
and having a suck 
at a lemon." 

" When did you 
paint your first pic- 
ture ? " was my next 

41 The first which 
was exhibited at the 
Academy was done 
when I was seven- 
teen, although it 
was not exhibited 
until the spring of 
1858. I had long 
before this, however, 
been painting in 
oils, and I li -!. A my 
hand at everything, 
from the family 
milk -jug upwards. 
My father's health 
began to fail for 
some years before 
he died, and so I 
was allowed to work 
as I pleased, That 
picture was called 
4 Rest/ and repre- 
sented an old 
knight in a suit of 
armour, reclining 
und^r a tree, with 
some children look- 
ing at him. It found 

a purchaser, and as he was an absolute 
stranger to me, it must have had some sort 
of merit in it It was not a large picture, 
the size known in the profession as a 
'kitcat,' 3ft by 2ft. 7 ' 

With a sudden impulse of curiosity I asked 
a decidedly impertinent question, "Will 
you tell me what you got for it, Mr. Stone ? " 

"Certainly," he replied, in such away that 
I no longer felt that, in the interests of the 

L W 


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by Google 




by Google 

Original from 



equally curious public, I had committed a 
faux pas, "Forty pounds was the price." 

" And what happened after that ? " 

" Then I began to work very hard at self- 
imposed tasks. I began attending a life- 
school of an exceedingly interesting character. 
It was got up by some of the men at 
the top of the tree in order that they 
might resume the studies of their youth. 
They were good enough to allow me to join 
them. Among them were Frith, Mulready, 
Holman Hunt, John Phillip, Augustus Egg, 
and other well-known painters, and I drew 
side by side with Mulready, who was a 
contemporary of Wilkie. He was then a 
very old man, as you may judge by the fact 
that if he were alive now he would be one 
hundred and thirteen. He made the most 
beautiful drawings you can imagine, which were 
always being bought up for schools of design 
throughout the country. I naturally derived 
a great deal of benefit from watching the 
methods of such men. Indeed, had I a young 
artist to train, the thing I would desire most 
for him would be that he should be among 
his seniors and see the development of their 
work. Painting is an imitative art, and if an 
apt pupil he can do well what he has seen 
others do, and so save a great deal of time 
puzzling out things for himself." 

" How long did you remain at the life- 

"About a couple of years. My father 
died when I was nineteen, and it then 
became necessary that I should earn my 
living. Work as well as study had to go on 
simultaneously, as they have since gone on 
until the present time." 

When a man begins his work at so early 
an age, the influence of those who have 
" arrived " more or less counts for something 
in the formation of his character and his 
career, so I asked Mr. Stone who had 
influenced him most. 

" As a man Dickens influenced my life 
enormously," he replied. "A great deal 
of the origin of my effort to deal with 
human sympathy in the way I have done 
is due to him, for that was the sheet- 
anchor of his whole life. He was a great 
friend of my father's. I constantly saw him 
under all conditions. There never was a 
man who gave himself more trouble and 
took more infinite pains in the pursuit of his 
art than did Dickens, and every detail and 
incident and character in the multitudinous 
personages in his books was given the 
greatest consideration. It was his example 
which was always before me which taught 

Digitized by W 

me habits of punctuality, diligence, and the 
like, and it was his example which saved me 
from the possibility of becoming an idler or 
dilettante, of whom there are too many in all 

"Everybody remembers your illustrations 
of 'Our Mutual Friend' and other of 
Dickens's novels," I said. Mr. Stone smiled. 

" 'Our Mutual Friend' was not the first of 
the Dickens novels which I illustrated," he 
replied, "for I began when I was quite a 
little boy. When ' Bleak House ' was coming 
out I was about ten. Jo always appealed 
most vividly to my childish imagination, and 
I remember that when the part came out with 
that famous eleventh chapter in which, as 
every reader of the book will recall, Jo 
sweeps the step of the gateway of the grave- 
yard in which the man who had been * werry 
good ' to him was buried, I was so impressed 
with the reality of the scene that I sat down 
at a table, took up a sheet of paper, and 
tried to draw it as I saw it. Dickens hap- 
pened to call upon my father — my sketch 
caught his eye. He recognised the subject 
at once, and, taking it up, said, ' That is very 
good, Marcus ; you will have to give it to me.' 
It was given to him, and a year after he wrote 
me a letter, of which I need hardly say I was 
inordinately proud, and with the letter came 
the first copy of a book I ever had given to 
me by the author. It was Dickens's ' Child's 
History of England.' 

"When my father died I had only ex- 
hibited two pictures, and as I had no inherit- 
ance from him, my prospects were decidedly 
gloomy. I thought if I could get some 
illustrations to do it would be a resource 
which would be valuable. I therefore went 
to Dickens, and he wrote me letters to three 
publishers, Murray, Longmans, and Chapman 
and Hall. None of them bore fruit, however, 
but that to the last-named firm, who after 
a long interval, in 186 1, gave me a frontis- 
piece to do for the first cheap edition of 
' Little Dorrit.' After two or three years 
came an offer for illustrating ' Our Mutual 
Friend.' Of course I accepted it, and the 
drawings were done, as well as others, such 
as the frontispiece for the first cheap edition 
of the ' Tale of Two Cities,' eight illustrations 
for the library edition of the ' Child's History 
of England,' four for the library edition of 
' American Notes,' and as many for ' Pictures 
from Italy,' and eight illustrations for the 
library edition of * Great Expectations.'" 

" A friend of yours told me that you dis- 
covered the original of Mr. Venus for Dickens. 
How did it happen?" I asked Mr. Stone. 




"I was painting a picture in which I 
required a begging dog. The ordinary dog 
is not at present sufficiently highly educated 
as a model, so I was recommended to go to a 
taxidermist named Willis, in the Seven Dials, 
who would supply my wants. He did, as a 
matter of fact, for he found the dog, killed it, 
and stuffed it in the attitude I needed. The 
day I called on him Dickens sent me an 
invitation to go to the theatre with him. 
During an interval between the acts he told me 
that he wanted a very striking and unusual and 
peculiar vocation to be introduced into the 
new story he was writing. *I know the very 
man,' I replied. 'Take me to him, 1 said 

illustrated, and as I knew Wilkie Collins, 
and moat of the other literary men of my 
day. I heard that Thackeray was about to 
publish the C$rnkili Magazine, in which 
there were to be illustrations. I thought I 
might perhaps get some work to do, so I 
called on him at his house. He was in bed 
with a sprained ankle, and I was shown up 
into his room. His man was bandaging his 
foot at the time, and he was surrounded with 
proofs of the first number. He showed 
them to me, One of the articles was illus- 
trated by Thackeray himself. His people all 
had muffs instead of heads. l Do you know 
what I mean by that?' he asked, in his 

I \l £>y] 

a passing Cloud. 
B{f pertriiatioTi u/ A rthat Ltu*ffi k JW„ Buktr Strati,. IF. t j?j npriWu 0/ (V Cafvfif/ht. 

[ Murctu .Hon*, R rJ 

Dickens. The next day we went to call on 
Willis. He was out, and while waiting for 
him Dickens sat down and absorbed all the 
details of the establishment, although he 
made not a single written note of the sur- 
roundings, Willis did not come back in 
time, and Dickens went away without see- 
ing him, but the interior of the shop was 
that which he so vividly described as Mr, 

" You knew Thackeray as well as Dickens, 
did you not?" 

*' Not as well as Dickens ; but I knew 
Thackeray as I knew Anthony Trollope, 
whose story, ■ He Knew He Wps Right, 1 I 

Digged by GOOQI 

characteristic fashion. Before giving me 
time to reply he answered the question him- 
self. * I mean that they are muffs.' He 
talked for a few minutes, and I showed him 
my sketches. ( Where do you get your 
pencils?' he asked me; * mine don't draw 
like that-'" 

(f Happily for art, you did not long remain 
in the field of black and white? " 

11 No, it was merely a means to an end, 
and luckily for me that end came sooner 
than I expected. My pictures began to make 
a certain headway, and all of them sold." 

"When did you make your first great 
popular success? " 

Original from 




11 In 1863. It was exhibited at the Royal 
Academy, and called ; From Waterloo to 
Paris.' It was what the French call genre 
historiquc, and it was the line which I 
continued painting for ten years and more." 

" Then what I may call the ' Stone age/ 
the period with which the later manifestation 
of your art is so intimately associated, did 
not materialize for a long time? What 
brought it about ? " 

u I had always been a great student of 
history," said Mr. Stone, " but a student 
with a political bias. I had come to the 
conclusion that history as written by the 
historian was a very different thing from that 
which was written by the people who made 
it. It seemed to me very much like the 
Court Circular, and the people were repre- 
sented as they were at Astley's Theatre : the 
kings and nobles were very great and grand, 
and quite different from ordinary human 
beings. I felt that I could no longer con- 
form to the prevailing ideas, as I also felt 
that the number of historical people who 
would appeal to the popular public taste was 
very limited indeed. I had for a long time 
been so struck with this thought that I used 
to clothe my modern thoughts in ancient 
dresses. One example will show you what I 
mean. When I was reading 'Dombey and 
Son/ I was greatly struck with the dramatic 
idea of Mr. Dombey's paternal pride in the 
birth of his heir, while he cared little or 
nothing for his first-born daughter. I 
determined to paint a picture on this 
subject, but nobody in those days would 
have cared for a literal representation of 
the subject. While turning over the matter 
in my mind, and wondering where I 
could place it, I came across the incident 
which is related of Henry VIII.'s visit to see 
Edward VI., while he ignored the little 
Princess Elizabeth, who was in the room at 
the time. There was the Dombey incident in 
characters which everyone would recognise, 
for Henry VIII. is one of the few historical 
personages familiar to the man in the street. 
I painted my picture of the ' Royal Nursery.' 
It was a historical picture, but it was Paul 
Dombey for all that." 

" But for the ' Stone age ' ? " I queried. 

" That came about in this way. I believe 
that the best and most valuable art work is 
done by the man who treats his own period. 
He knows his subject as, in a general way, 
he can know no other. He sees his people, 
he knows their thoughts, their feelings, 
and, in addition, everybody else knows what 
he knows. It is, of course, impossible in 

VoL xviiL~17. 

England, from what I may call the hourly 
change of fashion, to paint men and women 
in the costume of a given year. The dress 
would be out of fashion before the picture 
was finished. I therefore determined to get, 
if I could, some period in which the fashion 
would remain constant, while the thoughts 
and sympathies of the men and women 
would be sufficiently close to be readily 
sympathized with by the public. I saw this 
in the early days of the century, the days 
of our grandmothers, and so I adopted 
that for my general work. Had I been 
a Frenchman instead of an Englishman, 
however, I should have painted the peasant 
life of the moment, for that is exceedingly 
picturesque. We have, however, no peasant 
life in England, and no typical peasant dress, 
so that was impossible. In the same way, 
were I a writer of fiction I would never treat 
of any subject but that of to-day. Dickens 
and Thackeray both did this, departing from 
their custom very rarely indeed, and Shake- 
speare was in the same sense a modern writer, 
for he wrote of the things of his own time." 

" Did any painter exercise a conscious in- 
fluence over you in the early days of your 
career ? " was my next question. 

" No one," replied Mr. Stone. " It was at 
once my good and ill fortune, and left me 
catholic in my tastes. Whenever I saw a 
great work of art, and it is equally so to-day, 
I always tried to see the artist's aim and 
purpose, and was never drawn to one point 
to the exclusion of others. In this way I have 
always loved Van Eyck and Velasquez, who 
in painting are as opposite as the poles, but 

I always have been equally enthusiastic over 
other great painters. Millais I always counted 
the greatest man of my time, as well as one 
of the greatest painters of all time ; but there 
is no evidence of my admiration of his work 
in my art, so far as I am aware, although I 
could well wish it were otherwise." 

" You and he were great friends, were you 

" I knew him from the time I was a child, 
though he was my senior by eleven years, and 
was famous before I ever began to paint. 
As a young man he was an Apollo, and I 
remember seeing him and his wife, just after 
they were married, at a party at Dickens's, 
when I thought they were the most beautiful 
couple I had ever set eyes on." 

"In your own case, Mr. Stone," I said, 

II can you tell me how your pictures come to 
be painted ? " 

" Only vaguely. I get some story which 
can be told in a picture, in much the same 




way as a playwright gets the germ of the idea 
for his drama. I 'chew * on it, as I may say, 
until I have evolved that scene which has 
gone before, as well as that which will come 
after. These ideas are put down in the note- 
book of my mi nd j and I make very elaborate 
studies in my head, and devote a great deal 
of time and trouble to my picture in that 
way. Then on a sheet of note-paper 1 make 
a sketch of the idea, with ovals for faces, so 
that the telling of my story may not depend 
on the faces of the characters." 

Mr. Stone exemplified his meaning by 
taking some pieces of gummed paper and 
blotting out the faces of the characters in his 
pi ct li res, "Two's Company, Th r ee ? s None/' 
and "A Peacemaker." Attitude and com- 
position tell everything that there is to be 
told, as anyone may prove for himself by 
doing the same with the pictures which are 
here reproduced. 

41 And after the sketch on note-paper?" 
" Then I make a very accurate sketch to 
scale, after having decided exactly what size 
my picture is going to be when finished. I 
consult Nature always and verify the possi- 
bilities, to see that the design is sound in 
every way and does not depend upon matters 
which are incompatible with truth, Then I 
have models to sit, and begin to work at my 
picture. At the same time, I keep on work- 
ing at my sketch equally with my picture, so 
that, if necessary, 1 may make experiments 

on it and avoid painting out and painting in 
on the picture itself, too much of which one 
is compelled to do in the ordinary way. 
Unless my sketch were like the pit tun it 
would, of course, be impossible to do this, 
so that at times my sketches are very 
elaborate indeed." 

" Do you paint your models as they are?" 

"Never," said Mr. Stone, emphatically. 
"I have never painted and never would paint 
a recognisable portrait of a model. 1 may 
have half-a-dozen models for a .single figure 
in a picture. What one has to do is to paint 
one's imaginary man or woman, not a picture 
of a given man or woman. So strongly do I 
feel on this subject that if I see my picture is 
getting like my model the illusion is gone for 
me, for my picture was not a picture of Miss 

whatever her name happens to be, my 
model — but a picture of someone whom I 
have seen acting in the drama which I was 
endeavouring to evolve." 

" When once you get to work, do you work 
rapidly ?" I asked. 

" Rapidly ? n echoed Mr. Stone. " I am 
the slowest man who ever held a brush. Of 
course, one can cover a canvas rapidly with 
colour, but in painting, as in writing, although 
the public does not usually appreciate this 
fact, there are times when you don't know 
how to say what you have to say." 

As Mr. Stone said these words my eyes 
alighted on two packs of cards piled together 

raintei h v ] 

By permiation uf Arthur luflii, ss, Hattr A'l.-ecl, W* t proctor afth* tv /} , (/t i,.M 


[Hareu* £tune y R.A, 




on his table. With a sort of Sherlock 
Holmes power of deduction I hazarded my 
next question. 

" You find Patience helps you, then ? " 

"Very much," he replied, with a smile. 
"When I get into a tangle I find that the 
gentle stimulation of the mind which Patience 
necessitates produces a decidedly helpful 
effect, and so, you will probably be interested 
in knowing, do a great many of my brother 

All the time we had been talking I had 
noticed that anything in the nature of a 
picture or an easel was conspicuous by its 
absence, although we were in the studio. In 
reply to my question, Mr. Stone's explanation 
was pleasantly forthcoming. 

" I rarely show anything I do to friends or 
casual visitors," he said, " for it really dis- 
tresses me to have people looking at my 
work. If I had not had to earn my. living 
with my brush, I doubt if I should ever have 
exhibited at all." 

" Still, I suppose people do occasionally see 
your work when you are engaged at it ? " 

" Occasionally, certainly, but very occa- 
sionally. In this connection I remember an 
incident which always gives me a great deal 
of pleasure when I think of it, for I found 
one of my most sympathetic critics in a 
most unusual fashion. A gas-fitter was at 
work at the lamps over there while I was 
painting. After a time he stopped and came 
over to me, saying, ' I beg your pardon, sir, 
but will you let me look at the picture you 
are painting?' It was my picture, 'A 
Sailor's Sweetheart.' He looked at it long 
and silently— in itself a great satisfaction to 
me— and then I hazarded a question, for I 
had always wanted to find out exactly, from 
personal knowledge, whether my effects were 
as clear to men of that class as they were for 
the more cultivated or the artistic. ' Do you 
know what I mean by it ? ' I asked, after he 
had talked a good deal about it. ' Yes, sir,' he 
replied, 'there's no mistaking that. She's 
thinking about somebody in foreign parts.' I 
could have danced with delight at the 'foreign 
parts,' for the effect of the sea in the back- 
ground of the picture had produced on him 
exactly the effect I had desired to convey. 
He went over the picture with the utmost 
care, and presently his eye lighted on the 
little bunch of blue forget-me-nots in the girl's 
hand. Immediately a smile played all over 
his face, and turning to me he said, ' He 
won't forget her, sir.' I could have blessed 
that gas-fitter for his acumen, for it is extra- 
ordinary the amount of obtuseness one meets 

Digitized by ^OOglC 

with in people from whom one would expect 
better things. I have treasured the memory 
of that gas-fitter, and have often longed for his 
criticism on other pictures, though I have 
never seen him since. If the world were full 
of such gas-fitters it would be a much more 
satisfactory place for painters to live in." 

" To go for a moment from your art to 
your early life. You knew some of the 
actors of the past ? " I asked. 

" I met Macready," he replied, " and one 
day he gave me some advice about speaking. 
1 1 do not think there is very much to teach,' 
he said. ' I can tell you all about it in five 
minutes, but there is a great deal to do. 
Articulate every syllable, raise your voice at 
the end of every sentence, and as a matter of 
exercise try to see how many lines of verse you 
can say without taking a breath.' Then with 
a look of pride in his eyes, he added, slowly, 
' I can speak fourteen lines of " Paradise 
Lost" with only one breath.' 

" I knew Fechter, too. He used sometimes 
to ask me about the reading of a line, as 
he was not at all comfortable in his English 
when he first came here. Indeed, he actually 
proposed to me that I should go on the 
stage and act with him. He promised, if I 
would, to have a part written which would 
make a i personagfe ' of me. I need hardly 
say, however, that, great as the temptation 
was, my allegiance to my own art prevented 
the possibility of my accepting so flattering 
an offer." 

Then I turned to matters of the moment, 
and glancing round the studio, rich with rare 
tapestries and hangings, I learnt that Mr. 
Stone was the first to build a studio for the 
painting of outdoor effects, for until about 
thirty years ago painters did not trouble 
about plein air effects, but painted their 
models in their studio, and afterwards added 
a background. The studio is one of the 
largest in London, and like the house was 
built from Mr. Stone's own plans. "With 
that reverence which we professional men 
have for one another," he quickly added, as 
he told me this fact, " I took my plans to 
Norman Shaw, who was good enough to 
approve them as a working basis, and I left 
the whole building of the house in his hands, 
so that it is his house — architecturally. In 
this studio I can verify all my effects, even 
out-of-door effects, for I can put my model 
on the balcony if necessary, as it is quite 
shut out from the outside world." 

Mr. Stone led the way and I followed him 
on to the balcony, where looking through the 
trees one could see the late Lord Leighton's 




by Google 

Original from 



house across the lawn, while 
the greening trees made it 
practically as much cut off 
as if it were a detached 
house in the country, 

"I have been living here 
for twenty-two years/' Mr, 
Stone said, answering my 
question ; w before that I 
lived in Langham Chambers 
and in Tavistock Square, 
two doojs from Dickens's 
house. It is a curious thing, 
but my wife and I went to 
Langham Chambers only 
for a few months, on our 
return from our honeymoon 
on the Continent, and we 
stayed there six years — 
stayed there, in fact, looking 
for a suitable house, but in 
vain 3 and at last we decided 
to have this one built." 
Referring to the hangings 
and furniture, Mr, Stone 
continued : — 

"The tapestry in the 
studio was made probably 
before Shakespeare was 
bom, while there is nothing 
in the room that does not 
represent a certain period* 

**That chair you are 
sitting in," said Mr. Stone, 
44 was the chairman's seat in 
the Hell Fire Club, while 
the other chairs came from 
Med men ham Abbey. That 
looking-glass on the wall be- 
longed to the beginning of 
the last century, and whenever I look into 
it I can fancy I see Henry Esmond sitting 
there, arranging his wig in front of \t" 

On a cabinet stands a very precious object, 
one of the largest pieces of turquoise crackle 
ware ever produced. It is four hundred 
years old, and gains greater value from the 
fact that the art which produced it is obsolete. 
Just outside the studio there is an enormous 
wardrobe, some 12ft to 14ft, long, reaching 
from the floor to the ceiling, in which Mr. 
Stone keeps the costumes which he paints in 
his pictures. They are real old, short-waisted 
dresses, picked up here and there. One of 
Mr, Stone's hobbies is the collection of old 
brass, and in his dining-room there is a 
splendid pair of fifteenth -century plaques, 
which have a curious history, Some five- 
and-twenty years ago, or so, he picked up 

d by OOOgle 

li\f permission 

"MY LAUY lb A widow and ch ildllss. " LHarcas £toiur, R,A. 
of Arthur Lu&t*. 36^ Rttker S*i-«f T W-* proprietor of iM Cvpv^tU. 

one piece in Wardour Street. Some years 
later he happened to be in Venice, and 
cupping at an art-seller's shop he noticed 
an almost facsimile reproduction of his plate 
at home. He bought it, and after having 
been separated probably tor some centuries, 
these two pieces now hang on each side of 
the sideboard, in company with pictures by 
Velasquez, Etty, and other masters. 

Though insignificant perhaps to the out- 
sider, it is significant of Mr. .Stone's admira- 
tion for Dickens that one of the most 
prized of his treasures, reposing in a cabinet 
full of beautiful art objects, in a delightful 
room which is Mrs. Stone's boudoir^ is the 
pocket corkscrew Dickens used always to 
carry himself when travelling, which was 
given to Mr. Stone when the great novelist 

died Original from 


Stories of the Sanctuary Club. 

By L. T. Meade and Robert Eustace. Told by Paul Cato. 

N the second year of the exist- 
ence of the Club I received a 
letter from a gentleman in 
the county of Kent. He 
signed himself Walter Royal, 
and lived in a large place 
which went by the name of Court Royal. 
He was anxious to be admitted as one of 
our members, and further expressed a desire 
that his niece, a girl of about two-and-twenty, 
who lived with him, should also become a 
member of the Sanctuary Club. He inclosed 
a cheque for the entrance -fees for himself 
and his niece, and begged to know how 
soon the ceremony of his election might take 

I wrote to him immediately, asking a few 
questions, and finally said that at the next 
meeting of the committee he and his niece 
would be duly elected. To this he replied 
by a somewhat longer letter. 

" Your news has given me relief, Dr. Cato," 
he wrote : " I am an old man, and one never 
knows what may happen. I have heard a 
great deal of your Club from people who 
have derived benefit from your peculiar 
mode of treatment, and it is quite possible 
that in the future the institution which you 
have been good enough to inaugurate 
my niece Primrose. In 
it will undoubtedly be 
I do not think that I 
shall last much longer, but while I am in the 
world I wish to keep as well as possible, and 
as I am suffering from various phases of a 
nervous disorder, I should like to put m"«elf 
into your care as soon as possible. I shall 
probably be with you early next week. Before 
coming, however, it is as well for you to 
know that I am the victim of a very extra- 
ordinary malady, which is both overpowering 
and overmastering, and has such a curious 
effect on my nerves that I am obliged to 
yield to certain inclinations, knowing all the 
time that mischief will occur from my doing 
so. I will tell you more about this when I 
have the pleasure of meeting you." 

In reply to this letter I wrote to Mr. Royal 
to say that the following Wednesday would 
suit Dr. Chetwynd and myself for his re- 
ception, and he replied to the effect that 
he and his niece would be with us on that 

Digitized by V^OOQ It 

may be of use to 
the present case 
of service to me. 

It was early in the spring of the year 1892 
when he arrived, accompanied by his niece. 
He was a very tall and thin old man, with 
white hair hanging down over his shoulders, 
piercing, deeply-set black eyes, and aquiline 
features. There was an eagerness in his 
gaze which I have not often seen in anyone 
so advanced in life, and which I put down 
partly to the complaint from which he un- 
doubtedly suffered. 

His niece to a certain extent resembled 
him. She had the same bright, alert look, 
but her features were small, her figure graceful, 
and she had the rounded limbs and soft 
complexion of early youth. She had a 
gentle, affectionate manner, and I saw at 
once that she was a particularly amiable girl. 
I noticed, however, from the first that she 
was very anxious about the old man. At the 
first possible opportunity she hastened to tell 
me the cause of this anxiety. 

11 My uncle has not the slightest idea, Dr. 
Cato," she said, "that he is suffering from 
what almost amounts to mania ; but, never- 
theless, I who have known him all my life 
am certain that such is the case." 

" What do you mean ?" I asked. 

"Well, in the first place, he will not 
consult his family physician. He has abso- 
lutely refused to see Dr. Winstanley for the 
last two years, and it is since then that the 
curious phase of nervous disorder to which 
I allude has become so manifest. I cannot 
tell you how relieved I was when he declared 
his intention of becoming a member of the 
Sanctuary Club, and of putting himself under 
your treatment." 

" Pray describe the symptoms which give 
you uneasiness," I interrupted. 

She paused for a moment, then said, 
slowly, " You do not know perhaps that 
my uncle, Mr. Royal, is one of the 
greatest authorities on archaeology and 
Roman relics in England. About three 
months ago he sent some magnificent 
Roman pottery to the British Museum. This 
he had himself excavated in the neighbour- 
hood of Court Royal out of a Roman villa, 
which he discovered within three miles of his 
estate. I trace the growth of his disorder 
almost from the day when he first discovered 
this villa. Since then he has scarcely lived 
for anything else, employing workmen in the 




task of excavation, and wet or fine, early and 
late, has spent his time at the villa. During 
the long winter evenings he has been hunt- 
ing up the records of the place, and he told 
me not long ago that he believed the 
ruins in question had belonged to one of the 
Qu?estors of Customs in the reign of the 
Emperor Hadrian, when Britain was a Roman 
colony. He has searched through many old 
county records, and found that an old 
chronicler made mention of this very place, 
and said that it contained buried treasure of 
great value. Since reading this account my 
uncle's excitement has become greater and 
greater, and the one object of his life now is 
to discover the treasure which he believes 
to be hidden away in the old villa, I 
bitterly regret for his sake that he ever 
knew anything of its existence. He has 
certainly lost both health and sleep since that 
date; 1 

** What has brought things to a crisis? * I 

" I will tell you," she answered. lt Two 
months ago he returned home in a state of 
breathless and painful excitement It was 
just about Christmas time, and the weather 
was bitterly cold, I think he had got a chill 
in body, but his excitement of mind almost 
passed all hounds. He 
brought with him an old 
bronze disc, which he had 
found deeply embedded in 
the clay. There was some 
Latin writing on it, and 
night after night he shut 
himself up with his old disc - 
trying to make out the 
inscription round the edge. 
Whether he has ever done 
so or not is more than I 
can tell you ; but a few 
days ago, just after you had 
consented to admit him here, 
I found him in a state of 
unconsciousness in his 
study. The bronze was 
lying on a table near, and 
he had evidently fainted 
while struggling to possess 
himself of its secret. I 
locked the bronze disc up 
in one of the cupboards in 
the study, and took im- 
mediate steps to bring my 
uncle here. I am most 
anxious about him," 

" He certainly looks ex- 
tremely ill," I replied, * bm 

I trust the treatment and the great quiet of 
the place will go far to restore him. Has 
he shown any other eccentricities, Miss 
Seafield ? n 

She hesitated, then said, slowly, " There is 
one other craze which has manifested itself 
to an extraordinary degree. Kor nearly a 
year he has been hiding things of value in all 
sorts of unexpected places. Not long ago we 
could not find the old jewelled hunting watch 
which he always wore in his waistcoat-pocket 
He himself seemed to have forgotten where 
he put it, and was in a terrible state about it. 
We eventually recovered it in an unused well 
in the garden, Some jewels left to me by 
my mother were also put by him imo other 
as unlikely places, and of late I have been 
obliged to have a special attendant to follow 
him about in order to prevent his hiding 
things in daily use." 

"Well/' I answered, 
better than come here. 

spoken so frankly about him. My friend 
Chetwynd and I will do our utmost to pro- 
mote his recovery, and in the meantime I 
hope you will enjoy yourself. You at least 
look well and strong. '* 

" I am fairly well," she replied ; " but what 
with one thing and another, I have gone 

he could not do 
I am glad you have 

but » i 

by Google 

)L'ND HIM IN h sC*Fkflf1 Bt#0Km USNESS »" 




through many anxieties. Perhaps I ought 
to tell you that my uncle has had a very sad 
story. He had three children, the elder two 
being sons. The eldest son died when quite 
young, and he has quarrelled with the other 
so effectually that nothing will induce him 
to see him again. He has not only 
quarrelled with him, but he has also dis- 
inherited him, The son in question, James 
Royal, is a very bad man, and has led 
a most reckless and extravagant life. My 
uncle has paid his debts 
many times and given 
him very large sums of 
money, but within the last 
five years he has abso- 
lutely refused to allow him 
to come near Court Royal, 
and has assured me that 
he will not leave him a 
farthing. James Royal, 
who used to terrify me 
when I was a little child 
by coming to the house 
and making fearful dis- 
turbances, has taken his 
father at his word, and we 
neither of us now know 
where he is or whether 
he is in existence at all." 

"And who will inherit 
the property ? " I ventured 
to ask. 

" I do not mind telling 
you," she answered, her 
eyes growing bright ; " my 
uncle has often told me 
that he will leave Court 
Royal to me, I am not 
particularly anxious to be 
rich, but I hope, if I do 
find myself possessed of 
so fine a property, that I 
shall know how to do my 
duty. I am the daughter 
of his only sister, who 
was very much younger 
than himself. My mother 
died when I was a baby, 
and my father soon followed her. Since 
then L have lived at Court Royal, and my 
uncle has been both father and mother to 

At that moment my conversation with 
Miss Seafield was interrupted, and I did not 
renew it again. I repeated to Chetwynd 
what the young lady had told me, and we 
soon came to the conclusion that Walter 
Royal's malady was hopeless, and that, in all 

Digitized byXiOOgl C 

probability, the old man was not long for this 
world. He was a very gentle and agreeable 
person, and did not show the slightest sign 
of oddity when joining in general conversa- 
tion, but his bodily weakness grew apace, and 
he was soon confined to his room, 

Royal and his niece had been about a 
fortnight at the Sanctuary Club, when one 
day a visitor called It was, I remember, 
early in the afternoon, and I was doing 
something in the hall Miss Seafield was 


standing near helping me. Suddenly she 
almost dropped a valuable china plate which 
she was assisting me to move into a more 
prominent position, the colour fled from her 
face, and her hands trembled. A tall, eager- 
looking man of about thirty years of age was 
announced Miss Seafield started forward, 
holding out both her hands, 

" Jack ! " she cried, " how did you know 
we were her^qj n 3f]ftofllpe turned and intro- 




duced him to me. " Mr. Kelvin — Dr. Cato," 
she said. 

I bowed to the stranger. He had an un- 
common face, and I found myself looking at 
him with great interest There was a certain 
untamed fire in his eyes, joined to some 
indications of weakness round his lips, which 
seemed at a first glance to point him out as 
the victim of hereditary nervous weakness, 
but the breadth of his brow and the rare 
sweetness of his smile immediately dissipated 
this first impression. I felt certain that he 
was a man of remarkable genius, and had 
not led an ordinary career. It also needed 
but a glance at the face of the beautiful girl 
who now stood close to his side to show 
that the pair loved each other, and were in 
all probability engaged. 

" I must let Uncle Walter know that you 
have come, Jack, and then I will come back 
to you," was Primrose's next eager remark. 

" Shall I do that for you ? " I interrupted ; 
" I am going to visit Mr. Royal in about half 
an hour, when he awakens after his nap." 

" Oh, will you ? " she asked, her eyes full 
of smiles, and her cheeks glowing with 
happiness ; " then in that case we can go into 
the grounds. I have a good deal to say to 
Mr. Kelvin, Dr. Cato, and I am very much 
obliged to. you." 

I went upstairs to the old man. In the 
course of conversation I delivered his niece's 

" Ah ! " he said, " so Jack has found us out. 
Has Primrose told you anything more ? " 

"No," I answered; "what do you mean ?" 

" She is engaged to Kelvin, and more or 
less against my will. He is a clever fellow, 
very clever, almost a genius ; he has written 
some books of rare distinction, and is also a 
poet of no mean order ; but he is poor and 
rash and extravagant, and my impression is 
that he got himself into a serious scrape early 
in his life." 

"In your niece's case you ought to be 
very careful," I said. " You are a man of 
large property, and if you mean her to 
inherit it, she must not be a prey to fortune- 

" Oh, Kelvin is nothing of that sort," he 
said, somewhat impatiently. " If anything, 
he is too unworldly ; he loves my girl 
devotedly, and she fairly worships the ground 
he walks on. I am not surprised, and when 
you know him better, Cato, you will yourself 
yield to his many fascinations." 

That evening Miss Seafield asked me if 
her uncle had said anything with regard to 

Vol xviii,-18. 

" He told me that you and he are 
engaged," I said. 

She looked steadily at me for a moment, 
and then her dark-grey eyes filled with tears. 

" It is my great privilege to love him, and 
to be loved back in return," she said. " He 
is the most wonderful man I have ever met. 
He is very clever, more than clever; his 
writings are beautiful. He will make his 
mark in the world of letters if he goes on, 
but he has had a sad life, and has had much 
trouble. Dr. Cato, I don't mind telling you, 
he put himself some years ago into the power 
of my cousin, James Royal." 

"How so?" I asked. 

"I don't quite know myself, but it has cast 
a shadow over his life. It is in my cousin's 
power to ruin him, and why he has not done 
so long ago is a marvel ; but Jack's hope now 
is that he will never push things to extremities. 
Ah, I have told you too much— pray forget 
what I have said, but always remember that 
I regard myself as one of the most fortunate 
women in the world to have won the love of 
so good, so great a man." 

Within a week from that date old Mr. 
Royal passed quietly away in his sleep. His 
illness had been hopeless from the first— but 
none the less was the shock a severe one to 
Miss Seafield. The old man was taken back 
to Court Royal to sleep in the vault of his 
ancestors, and in the rush of other work I 
almost forgot Primrose Seafield and her story. 

Nearly six months passed, when I received 
the following letter : — 

" Court Royal, Wrenhurst, Kent. 

"Dear Sir, — My name I know will be 
familiar to you as the son of the late Mr. 
Walter Royal, who was a member of your 
Club, and died under your roof. As I am 
rather anxious about myself in view of my 
father's malady, and as I hope to be married 
within a week, and there is no time to spare, 
I shall be exceedingly glad if you will come 
down and see me at your earliest convenience. 
" Yours faithfully, 

"James Royal." 

I read this letter with a good deal of 
astonishment Had the reckless and wicked 
son who had more or less ruined his father's 
life turned up at Court Royal on hearing of 
the old man's death? Beyond doubt this 
had happened. But why was he staying 
there, when Primrose Seafield was the heiress? 
And whom was he going to marry imme- 
diately, and why had he requested me, of all 
persons under the sun, to diagnose his 
special symptom^ a | frorn 

Appr^hendtrf,lQ^^g^^ll why, foul 

1 3* 


play of some sort, I was about to reply to 
this letter, when by the very next post I 
received one from Miss Seafield herself. 

"J)ear Dr. Cato," it ran, "I have just 
heard that my cousin, James Royal, has 
written asking you to come down here, and I 
am writing now to beg of you as a personal 
friend of my own to grant his request if 
possible. The fact is, I want to see you 
myself, and it is impossible for me to visit 
you at the Club just at present, I am in 
great and terrible trouble, and I want to ask 
your advice. I believe you can help me if 
you will When you meet my cousin, please 
do not mention to him that I have written, 
nor speak about anything special in his 
presence. In particular, I hope you will not 
allude to Mr. Kelvin. I will tell you all 
when we meet — Yours sincerely, 

" Primrose Seafieux" 

" I will go down by the earliest train 
to-morrow morning," I reflected, "and find 
out for myself how matters really stand." 

Soon after eleven o'clock on the following 
day 1 reached Wrenhurst. A well-appointed 
carriage had been sent to meet me. 1 
learned from the coachman that Court Royal 
was about three miles away, but the spirited 
chestnuts were not long in getting over the 
ground. 1 presently found myself in a fine 
avenue, which con- 
tained some magnifi- 
cent timber, and a sharp 
corner in the avenue 
brought the old house 
into full view, with its 
quaint gable-ends and 
Norman turrets. 

Just as the carriage 
drew up before the front 
entrance, Primrose Sea- 
field hurried to meet 
me. She was in deep 
black, and her shady 
hat was slightly pushed 
away from her face. 

14 You have come — 
I thought you would," 
she said, a I cannot tell 
you how thankful I 
am. My cousin is out, 
but there is no time 
to say much to you ; he 
may be back at any 
moment. Oh, Dr. Cato, 
I an, in fearful trouble 
— I wonder my senses 
do not give way, I 
must take an oppor- 

tunity of speaking to you, and in private. Will 
you come to my uncle's study after lunch ? J? 

" Shall I find you there?" I asked. 

" Yes ; I have no chance of having a word 
alone with you before. My cousin will 
prevent it, but Mrs. Hall, my old governess, 
is staying with me, and she will bring you to 
the study if you ask her. After lunch my 
cousin, as a rule, goes away for a nap by 
himself. Ah, and here he is approaching," 

She turned as she spoke and pointed in 
the direction of the shrubberies, through 
which I saw a tall, loosely -made man coming 
towards us. I scarcely glanced at him at 
first, however, so dismayed was I by the 
change in the girl's own bright face, She 
was now painfully thin, and her dark -grey 
eyes were almost too large for absolute beauty. 
There were heavy shadows under them, and 
her lips — beautiful and proud lips they used 
to be — were tremulous as though she had 
often indulged in heavy fits of crying. She 
looked sadly nervous, too, and as though her 
mental equilibrium had, in some curious way, 
got a severe shock. 

" Come with me to meet my cousin," she 
said. She walked 
forward, and I fol- 
lowed hen l h 

The man who had 



J 0^g\na\ from 



now almost reached us was above the 
middle height ; he was followed by a 
bulldog, and wore a Norfolk suit and 
carried a rook-rifle in his hand. In some 
particulars his features resembled those 
of his father, being aquiline and thin; 
but the colour on his cheeks was fixed, 
and his mouth was completely hidden by 
a heavy moustache. His eyes were sunken 
into his head, and were too bright. They 
had a watchful gleam in them, too, which I 
have often connected with nervous disorder. 
It needed scarcely a glance to tell me that 
the man indulged in too much alcohol. 

" How do you dp, Dr. Cato ? " he said, 
as we came up. " I presume this is Dr. 
Cato, Primrose ? " he added, glancing at his 

She bowed, without speaking. 

44 Ah ! so I guessed. Your train must 
have been punctual, Doctor. I am sorry I 
was not on the premises when you drove up. 
Will you come into the house now?" 

He did not take any further notice of 
Primrose. She left us and went slowly in 
the direction of the shrubbery. We entered 
a large hall, and Royal, opening a door on ( 
the right, took me into the dining-room. 

" Have something before lunch, won't 
you ? " he said, opening a door in a massive 
oak sideboard, and taking out a bottle of 

" No, thank you," I answered. 

44 You had better," he said. 

I shook my head. 

" I never take stimulants except with 
meals," I said. 

"AH the worse for you," was his retort. 
"Well, you don't mind if I help myself?" 
He poured out a stiff glass of brandy and 
drank it off. 

14 Shall we go to my late father's smoking- 
room for our talk ? " he said. 

Without waiting for me to reply he led the 
way, crossing a large conservatory as he did 
so. We soon found ourselves in a small, 
comfortably furnished room ; the French 
windows were open, and the soft summer air 
was coming gently in. Royal drew a chair 
forward for me, and sank himself into another 
nearly opposite. 

44 Well," he said, 44 to plunge into the 
matter without further delay, I am about to 
be married. You may think it rather soon 
after my father's death, but the wedding will 
be a very quiet one, and there are reasons 
that make it inexpedient to allow any further 
delay. This day week, I hope to see myself 
united to as good a girl as ever breathed. 

You guess, of course, that I allude to my 
cousin, Primrose Seafield." 

44 You astonish me very much," I said; 
44 you engaged to Miss Seafield ? " 

44 And why not ? " he answered, his brow 
darkening, and an angry scowl passing across 
his features. 

I was silent. Angry as I felt, I knew that 
the matter was scarcely my affair. He gazed 
at me steadily for a moment ; then his eyes 
fell, he shuffled uneasily on his seat, and I 
saw his large hands tremble. 

44 It is these beastly nerves," he said. 
44 Certainly, this age has its drawbacks, and 
the way we poor mortals are troubled by all 
kinds of out-of-the-way feelings is past a joke. 
Now, I don't pretend that I have led the 
most immaculate life in the world, and what 
with one thing and another, things are telling 
on me. I have heard much of you and your 
wonderful cures, Dr. Cato, and it has occurred 
to me that by-and-by I cannot do better than 
become a member of your Club, and put 
myself completely under your treatment." 

44 1 shall be pleased to enter your name on 
my roll of members," I answered. 44 1 will 
send you a form to fill up, and " 

He waved his hand to interrupt me. 

44 Presently, presently," he said ; " those 
matters are for the future. I have sent for 
you now to consult you as an ordinary 
physician. I want to ask you a plain 
question. Is — in your opinion— my father's 
insanity (for he doubtless was insane in the 
latter years of his life) hereditary ? " 

44 Your father was insane for the last six 
months of his life ; certainly not longer," 1 
answered. 44 My friend Dr. Chetwynd and I 
studied his case most carefully. He had a 
peculiar mania, but it was not of long 
duration, and was itself of quite an innocent 

44 Ah," he said ; "well, I don't agree with 
you. I have known the old man intimately 
for some time, and can prove that he was very 
queer for several years; but now for my 
question. My father died at the age of 
eighty — I am a man of five-and-fifty : am I 
likely to be similarly affected ? " 

44 No," I replied, boldly ; 44 if your father 
was insane, it by no means follows that his 
insanity was hereditary. But tell me what 
you complain of." 

44 1 am oppressed at times by an overpower- 
ing sense of fear, and since I came into this 
fine property I have in a most remarkable 
way lost every interest in life. I have gone 
through ups and downs in my rough-and- 
tumble existence,, and, L assure you there have 



been moments in my miserable life when I 
have scarcely known how to provide for my 
next mcai You will scarcely credit this, 
seeing that I am the son of one of the richest 
men in the county ; but he was peculiar, my 
dear sir, peculiar from the very first, Now, 
indeed, things have righted themselves, and 
in an extraordinary and providential manner. 
You see before you a rich man, Dr. Cato, I 
have many thousands at my credit in the bank, 
and, as you see for yourself, am the owner of 
a large estate and a fine house, lam also 
about to be married to a very pretty girl, and 
one I have long been fond of, It seems un- 
accountable, does it not, that with all these 
advantages, these showers of blessings, so to 
speak, I am still thoroughly wretched? I 
sleep badly, and am troubled by dreams 
and nightmares of a terrifying description. 
Knowing what I do about my father, I have 
been getting quite fidgety of late, and 
thought I had best consult you at once. 
Naturally, before mar- 
riage, a man thinks of 
(hese things. Can you 
relieve my mind?" 

" Your symptoms 
are not quite pleasant 
ones," I said, " but at 
the same time there is 
nothing to be seriously 
alarmed about. Granted 
that your father did 
suffer from mania, it 
behoves you to be more 
careful than ordi nary 
men, and a quiet, open- 
air life is what will suit 
you best. Avoid all 
excitement, and, what 
is far more important, 
excess of every kind." 

"Well, I do that," 
he said, with a laugh ; 
" there is devilish little 
excitement here, and 
plenty of open air, so 
that's all right 5 ' 

4 * Do you take much 
alcohol ? " I asked, 

" Oh, a nip now and 
then, and wine with 
meals.' 1 

" Have your wine with meals, by all 
means," I answered, f< but I should stop the 
nips, A man who gets drunk once a month, 
and takes nothing in the interval, will live 
longer than a man who is never the worse 
for liquor but is constantly tippling ; but pray 

remember, the man who does neither will 
outlive them both." 

" I have no doubt that is so," he answered, 
w but I could not exist without wine, and 
I never drink to excess, I am much obliged 
to you for your opinion, Dr. Cato. You can 
assure me there is no present cause for 
alarm ? " 

"None, if you will be moderate," was my 

" I will tell Primrose what you say ; she 
will be relieved, poor girl. I think I quite 
frightened her a couple of evenings ago, 
I was in a somewhat mirthful state, and she 
did not think I showed sufficient respect for 
my late father's memory. After all, Dr. Cato, 
T have nothing to thank him for. I should 
not be the owner of this property had he not 
overreached himself and died intestate. But 
for that little Tact Primrose would have been 
the heiress, and I should have been nowhere. 
Now matters are reversed, and I think I am 


behaving extremely well to the girl by marry- 
ing her," 

" But what does she say herself? 3 ' I asked. 

<f Say ? What can she say ? She is natur- 
ally delighted -who would not be? It is not 
every UMm^YtyF tffcHI&ttt* of b « in S 



mistress of a fine property like this. The 
fact is, the whole thing is a most lucky escape 
for her. Had my father made a will, she 
would have inherited Court Royal and 
thrown herself away upon a fellow in town, 
of the name of Kelvin, an imbecile sort of 
chap. He poses as a maker of poetry, and 
writes a lot of silly stuff ; you must know the 
sort of fellow for yourself. Primrose thought 
herself in love with him, and would have 
married him, had I not stepped in to inter- 
fere. Our wedding-bells will ring in a week ; 
and, now that you have quite relieved 
my mind, I can do what is left of my court- 
ship with a light heart." 

As he spoke he left the room. I sat, feel- 
ing almost stunned, by the open window. I 
had now got the secret of Primrose's trouble. 
But what hold had such a man over the poor 
girl? Why had she, even for a single 
moment, consented to marry him ? Why 
was there no will ? What did all this dark 
and inexplicable shadow mean ? 

Miss Seafield was not present at lunch ; 
but the old lady, Mrs. Hall, whom she had 
already mentioned, took the head of the table. 
Royal was in high spirits, both eating and 
drinking freely. He made loud jokes, and did 
not seem to miss his cousin in the very least. 
As soon as the meal was over he rose abruptly. 

" What train do you take back to town ? " 
he said, looking at me. 

"There is a good train, is there not, at 
3.30 ? " was my reply. 

" I should recommend the 4.30 — that is an 
express. I am sure Mrs. Hall and my cousin 
Primrose will be glad to take you round the 
grounds. I will join you in an hour or so ; 
I always have a nap after lunch — I acquired 
the habit when in the East. Good-bye for 
the present." 

He left the room, waving his hand as he 
did so in the direction of Mrs. Hall. 

" Look after him," he said to her. 

The moment the door closed behind my 
host, the good lady turned to me. 

" Will you come at once to Primrose 
Seafield ? " she said. " We both knew that 
this would happen. He takes more wine than 
he can stand, and always goes away for his 
nap, as he expresses it. Dr. Cato, I know 
that you have been good to Primrose, and 
that she has in part confided her story to 
you. If you can help her, do, in the name 
of Heaven ; no girl ever wanted someone to 
guide her more than she does at present. 
She is very unhappy and, unless matters can 
be quickly put right, will have a miserable 
life in the future." 

As Mrs. Hall spoke, she led me from the 
dining-room down a long corridor, and a 
moment later we found ourselves in the late 
Mr. Royal's study. It was a beautiful room, 
lined with books from floor to ceiling, and 
was situated in the west wing of the building. 
Primrose Seafield was already there. She 
was standing in one of the deep windows, 
her hands clasped loosely behind her 
back. As soon as I appeared she started 

" Ah, thank you," she said. " Mrs. Hall, 
will you leave us ? " 

The old lady withdrew, closing the door 
softly behind her. 

"There is not a moment to waste," said 
Miss Seafield, speaking eagerly. "Take a 
chair, Dr. Cato, and please do not lose a 
word of what I am going to tell you." 

I sat down in the nearest chair. 

" Won't you sit, too ? " I said to her. 

" No, I cannot ; I am too restless to 
remain still for a moment. Please listen." 

" I am all attention," I answered. 

"Do you remember my telling you early 
in the spring about my dear uncle's great 
passion for Roman relics ? " 

" Yes," I answered. 

"Well, the wretched story which I am 
about to confide to you has something to do 
with that fact, but I must start from another 
point. You know how suddenly my uncle 
died ; his funeral took place from the 
Sanctuary Club, and I came back here. The 
lawyers immediately searched for the will, 
but no will could be found. Knowing my 
uncle's peculiarity with regard to hiding 
things of value, the search was most thorough 
and complete : not a corner of the old house 
was left without a complete investigation ; 
the gardens and grounds were searched 
from end to end, but nowhere up to the 
present has there been the smallest clue to 
any will. Two months after the death my 
cousin, James Royal, appeared. He brought 
a London lawyer with him, said that he had 
heard that his father had died intestate, and 
that he was going to take possession of every- 
thing. I need not go into particulars, nor 
tell you all that he said and that the lawyers 
on my side said, and the amount of angry 
words that passed between them. All that 
mattered little or nothing to me. I was 
stunned. I could not believe that my cousin 
was to be the owner of the property, and that 
I myself was penniless. It was not, as I 
have already told you, that I wanted money 
for its own snke ; but, oh ! Dr. Cato, you 

do n 0^-ffiim)Ffe«[ agthis noble 



property through the very mire — there will be 
nothing of it left in a year or two." 

She paused as she spoke ; the light from 
outside fell all over her figure, and lit up her 
pale face, bringing out strong bronze lights in 
her rich hair. She looked almost ethereal, 
and very beautiful — the suffering on each 
feature but accentuated her loveliness. As I 
watched her I trembled for her health. 
Would she long endure the severe strain to 
which she was now exposed ? 

" Oh, money is of so little value," she 
continued, " and yet what tragedies it causes ; 
but I must go on — please listen. You know, 
of course, that when I was at the Sanctuary 
Club I was engaged, with the full sanction of 
my own heart, and with every prospect of 
happiness, to the man I love best on earth, 
Jack Kelvin. You remember my telling you 
that once, some years ago, he got him- 
self into my cousin's power — he had alluded 
to this once or twice, but I did not know any 
particulars. I was to learn them all too 
soon. Jack, as I have told you, has very 
strong literary tastes, and is already making 
a name for himself in London ; but in his 
early days he had serious troubles, and was 
once in severe money difficulties. At that 
time he knew my cousin, James Royal, well, 
and there was even a sort of friendship 
between them. Jack, in order to meet his 
liabilities, had borrowed money at very heavy 
interest from different money-lenders. 

" One evening he confided the state of 
affairs to my cousin. It was just then that 
he and I had first met. He had fallen in 
love with me, and had even mentioned the 
hope that some day we should be husband 
and wife. James Royal discovered his 
feelings with regard to me. I cannot quite 
tell whether Jack confided in him or not, 
but James had a strange power in those 
early days of drawing people out ; he could 
be full of tact when he pleased. Anyhow, 
he appeared then to be a very angel of 
sympathy. He had some money at the time, 
and told Jack that for my sake he would pay 
off some of his heaviest debts. He did so, 
taking over the mortgages himself, although 
the security they represented, if realized, 
would not have covered half the debts. 

" This happened three years ago, but 
since then James Royal's career has gone 
from bad to worse, and, as you know, my 
uncle often said that he would not leave 
him a penny. The existence of no will, 
however, completely changed the aspect of 
affairs, and he inherits all. He arrived at the 
Court, as I told you, and about two months 

after his arrival came to me one day and 
explained the position. He said he had always 
thought it highly improbable that he would 
inherit the property. The fact of there being 
no will was an unforeseen contingency. 
There was, however, he said, always the 
possibility of a will being found, in which 
case he knew well that the estates would 
be mine. 

61 ' I always guessed you would be the 
heiress/ he said, 'and I meant when the 
time came to marry you.' 

" I laughed in his face when he said the 
words, but he proceeded, looking me full in 
the eyes. 

" ' I have got Kelvin in my power/ 
he cried. 'I can foreclose on those mort- 
gages, and unless he pays up, which he 
cannot by any possibility do, some of his 
early speculations will be exposed — by no 
means to his credit — and he himself dragged 
through the Bankruptcy Court. Be sure of 
one thing — I shall have no mercy.' 

"Oh, Dr. Cato, I knew his words were 
true — he looked the fiend he was as he 

"'I have waited years for this moment/ 
he said, and he laughed. l When you marry 
me I will destroy the mortgages, but not an 
hour before. It is for you to choose whether 
I ruin Kelvin or not.' 

"I was nearly wild with misery. That 
very morning I had heard that Jack expected 
to be offered the post of editor on a new and 
important paper, but his chance of this long- 
looked-for success would be over if my cousin 
did his worst. 

" I went on my knees to my cousin ; I did 
all I could to implore his mercy, but I might 
as well have spoken to a stone." 

Suddenly she turned and faced me. 

" And I have yielded," she said ; " under 
the horrible pressure, I have yielded. I have 
told Jack the truth. He is nearly mad with 
misery, but I know it will be best for him in 
the long run. I cannot be the cause of his 
utter ruin." 

As she spoke she burst into painful sobs. 
I turned my head aside. After a moment 
or two she recovered herself. 

" Your story is a most painful one," I said, 
" and what I have already felt with regard to 
your cousin is abundantly confirmed by your 
words. Believe me, I think you are doing 
very wrong in yielding to the entreaties of a 
man like James Royal. He has lived a 
wicked and dissolute life, and is, I also fear, 
a confirmed drunkard^' ^ 

J<I te^%ilCH^ff id ' dasping 



and unclasping her hands, " But," she added, 
11 Jack owes him ^2 0,000. If lie forces 
Jack to pay now, all his prospects are ruined. 
Oh, what a terrible power my cousin holds 
over him ! If I could only get ^20,000, I 
should be a free girl ! " 

"Then there is nothing whatever For it," I 
said, "but to find the will. When the will 
is found, and it is proved that you are the 
heiress, you can defy your cousin, for you 
can pay Kelvin's debts yourself," 

" Ah, yes, yes; and now I am coming to 
the real point of this interview. Please 
listen with all your might. Do you remem- 
ber my telling you about the curious bronze 
disc which my uncle had discovered ? ! ' 

4< I do," I replied; u but how can it 
possibly help you now?" 

" In a position like mine one clutches even 
at straws," she 
said. u I want to 
show you the 
disc, "She crossed 
the room, un- 
locked the cup- 1 
board, and drew 
out what looked 
like a large metal 
plate. "Have 1 
you ever seen 
anything like this 
before? 1 * she 

I took the disc 
in my hand, turn- 
ing it over with 
some interest. 

" It looks like ' 
a very curious 
piece of old 
bronze of an early 
date," I said. 

11 1 see you un- 
derstand some- 
thing of these 
things ! " she ex- 
claimed* (< That 
is exactly what 
my uncle told 
me* I shall never 
forget the even- 
ing he found it 
Look at the in- 
scription round the edge, 
Latin — can you read it ? " 

I held the disc obliquely, and deciphered 
the following words with some difficulty : — 



It is very early 

11 If this is genuine it is interesting," I ex- 
claimed ; " do you know the translation ? " 

4t I am not quite sure of some of the 
words," she said, "and my uncle never would 
read them to me. Can you translate that 
inscription, and, if so, will you, Dr, Cato?" 

I looked again carefully at the old Latin, 
and then translated as follows :— 

II This Disc holds the Key to Buried 
Treasure. Remember three things: FINGERS 
— Bow — Sand," 

" Is that the meaning? " said the girl, with 
great eagerness, 4i How wonderful ! I knew 
my uncle had a reason for his excitement. I 
had partly, but only partly, deciphered this 
for myself, I had discovered about the buried 
treasure ; but what — what does the latter 
part mean, Dr. Cato? What have Fingers — 
Bow — Sand to do with buried treasure? " 

"1 wish I 
knew," I replied. 
" It seems to 
me," continued 
Miss Seafield, 
" that here may 
he the key to get 
me out of my 
difficulty. 1 
dream of this 
disc day and 
night, and the 
words ' buried 
treasure ' are ever 
ringing in my 
ears. Now, I 
have studied the 
laws of treasure- 
trove and dis- 
covered that the 
finder must hand 
over the treasure 
to the Crown, 
who pays him or 
her its intrinsic 
value. If this disc 
really contains 
the key to hidden 
treasure, and we 
can discover its 
meaning and get 
the treasure, I 
may be able to 
pay the debt 
which Jack Kelvin owes my cousin, and so 
save him and release myself," 

I never saw anything brighter than her 
eyes as she spoke — the colour had come into 
her cheeks and courage into her voice. She 
was l^^^^^l^d her fingers 



rested lightly on the disc. She looked down 
at it now with a glance of such hope, mingled 
with such despair, that all the enthusiasm 
within me rose up to try and help her, 

" You are to be married in a week ? " I 

"Yes, this day week, unless — unless this 
can save me." Again she touched the disc. 
" Is there any hope, Dr. Cato ? " she asked 

"Of a visionary character," I could not 
help saying, " In the first place, we must 
find out the meaning of this inscription. In 
the next, if there is treasure hidden anywhere 
in the old villa it may not be of large amount ; 
but I tell you what I'll do — I'll go and see 
the Roman villa myself on my way back to 
the station. Does your cousin know about 
this disc ? * 

" He examined it, as he did everything else 
in the house, but evidently placed no value 
on it, and I took care not to acquaint him 
with its history." 

" Then I will take possession of the disc 
—may I ? " I said. 

i% Why ? J} she asked, reluctance in her 

" I should like I)r Chetwynd to see it. 
He has all kinds of curious knowledge, and 
is, I fancy, an authority on this sort of thing," 

"You will not keep me long in sus- 
pense ? " she asked. 

" No, you shall hear 
from me at the first 
possible moment, but 
do not build your hopes 
too much on this old 
thing. Continue to 
search for the will. If 
it is found, believe me 
you are saved." 

Soon afterwards 
Royal joined us both 
in the grounds. 

"By the way," I said 
to him, U I have just 
heard from Miss Sea- 
field of a curious old 
Roman villa which has 
been excavated near 
here. I should like 
much to see it. Can 1 
do so on my way back 
to town ? " 

He gave me a care- 
less glance. 

* ( If you really wish 
to see the old villa, there is no objection/* 
he said ; " but there is nothing for you to 
look at T except a lot of ruins and the holes 

my father dug. I will tell the coachman to 
point it out to you on your way to the 
station, 35 

" Thank you," I answered. The carriage 
came up at that moment. I bade Royal 
good-bye, wrung Primrose's hand, and started 
back to London. 

After about twenty minutes' drive the 
coachman drew up at a gate on the left-hand 
side of the road, from which a pnth led up a 
steep embankment covered with short grass* 

u That is the place where the old master 
got his death, it seems to me, sir," said the 
man. " He was always poking round there, 
and I never could see that he gained much 
by it The Roman villa is at the other side 
of the embankment." 

Telling him to wait for me, I began to 
scramble up the mound. When I reached 
the top I saw at once the site of the Roman 
villa by the extensive excavations all round 
it, and hurried up to view it more closely. 
A rusty pick-axe and some other tools were 
left on the grass, and I was surprised to find 
that there was far more to see than I had 
anticipated. Of course, nothing approaching 
to a structure existed, but the extent of the 
ground-plan was well defined, and the tiled 
pavement of the atrium, laid in curious 
mosaic patterns, was still in a state of preser- 

Original from 



vation. I walked all round it, trying to 
rebuild it in my imagination from the scanty 
remains that the ravages of seventeen cen- 
turies had left Time, however, was passing, 
and I was obliged to hurry back to catch the 

As soon as I reached home I went in 
search of Chetwynd. I found him in his 
private laboratory. He looked up as I 

11 1 have nearly discovered what has puzzled 
me for some time," he said ; " but what is the 
matter, Cato, you look worried ? " 

11 So would you be if you had gone through 
the sort of day I have," was my answer. " 1 
have something very important to tell you, 
Chetwynd. I have just come back from 
Court Royal." 

"Well? "he asked. 

I gave him a rapid outline of my ex- 
periences. He listened quietly. 

"You must discover this cipher, Chet- 
wynd," I said. 

" Do you mean this moment ? " he asked. 

" Yes, now ; can you not see for yourself 
there is not an hour to lose ? " 

" I will do my best," he answered ; " leave 
the disc there." 

I left him, and after a restless night 
I got up early, determined to see if Chet- 
wynd were awake and to discover the result 
of his investigations. I went to his room 
and knocked several times, but as there was 
no reply I opened the door and went in. 
The room was empty — the bed had not been 
slept in. What could this mean ? I hurried 
down to his study— it was likewise empty. 

" I think Mr. Chetwynd is in his labora- 
tory, sir," said one of the servants as I passed 

"In his laboratory at this hour!" I ex- 
claimed, in some wonder. In a moment I 
had reached the door and quietly opened it. 
Chetwynd was seated at the bench. Though 
it was broad daylight, the blinds were still 
down and the electric light burning. Upon 
the bench, fastened in an iron vice, was the 
disc ; beside it lay Chetwynd's open violin- 
case and several books. 

II My dear fellow," I cried, " what are you 
up to ? " 

11 You must not do this again, Cato," he 
said, in a quiet voice, a twinkle coming into 
his bright eyes. 

"What?" I exclaimed. 

"Bring me your abominable enigmas to 
solve. You know I cannot leave a thing 
when I have once started it, but I have solved 
this, at any rate. Whether it will lead to 

Vol. xviii.— 19. 

by LiOOgle 

buried treasure or not is quite another ques- 

"You have?" I cried. "How? Tell 

"Did you not say that the pavement of 
the old Roman villa was in a state of preser- 
vation and in mosaic patterns ? " 

" Yes, certainly ; but why do you ask ? " 

"Fingers — Bow — Sand," he replied. "If 
what I have discovered here is the key to the 
cipher, it will be something that will show 
the scientists of the present day that ?.he 
old Romans knew more about the laws of 
acoustics than they give them credit for." 

"But what do you mean?" I cried, im- 

" Why, Chladni's sand figures, of course — 
you know them, surely ? " 

" Chladni's sand figures ! " I echoed, " of 
course, I have heard of them ; but explain 
yourself, for God's sake." 

" Well, see here. I struck the idea at 
about four o'clock this morning. You know 
when you sprinkle sand on a metal disc, 
and draw a violin bow down the edge of the 
disc, the sand forms itself into beautiful and 
symmetrical patterns, and when you place 
your fingers on the edge at places called 
Nodes, the pattern is of constant form. 
Well, here are the three things — Fingers, Bow, 

" But whatever have they to do with 
treasure in a Roman villa ? " I asked. 

"Ah! that we have to find out. All I know 
is that I get this as a constant figure " — here 
he showed me a sheet of paper with a strange 
pattern drawn on it — "and if we find one of 
the mosaics corresponding to this," he con- 
tinued, " I should say there might be a 
chance for us." 

I gazed at him for a moment without 
speaking, as his extraordinary solution 
dawned upon me. 

" By Jove ! " I cried, at last, " you have 
discovered the key. It would be a triumph 
if we found something of real value, and so 
saved poor Primrose Seafield." 

" We will start off immediately after break- 
fast," he cried ; " I am as keen about the 
affair as you are yourself. Now, look here, 
Cato, this is what the bow does." 

Some fine sand lay sprinkled on the disc ; 
he placed his fingers at certain points on its 
edge, marked by indications that I had over- 
looked ; he then drew the bow smartly along 
the edge. The musical note rang out, and 
the sand, from being a shapeless heap, fell 
into a perfect symmetrical figure, traced as 
if by the pencil of some skilled but invisible 




draughtsman, and corresponding exactly to 
the copy he had made on paper. 

u It is marvellous," I said* *' Yes, we will 
take this dawn with us. I will go and look 
up the tiains; 
there is not a 
moment to 


I went into the hall, where the servant 
handed me my morning's post: there was a 
letter from Miss Seafield, I tore it open at 

" Dear Dr. Cato," it ran, " Immediately 
after you left this afternoon my cousin ques- 
tioned me about your desire to visit the old 
Roman villa — and an hour or so later dis- 
covered that the bronze disc was gone, lie 
flew into a frightful rage, and said that you 
and I were plotting something against his 
interests, and that only sinister motives took 
you to the ruins. He finally declared that 
he would go to you to get back the disc by 
the earliest train in the morning* He is 
almost like a madman to-night— what is to 
be done ?— Yours sincerely, 

" Primrose SEAFrKLo." 

"The brute," I could not help exclaiming. 
44 Well, he won't find me here. I am glad he 
will be out of the way while we are over- 
hauling the ruins/' 

Digitized by Google 

Chetwynd and I reached Wrenhurst in 

good time. We had already decided to go 

first to Court Royal and bring Primrose with 

us to the scene of the excavations. When 

we got there she hurried to meet us, 

*' Have you discovered anything?" 

she cried. The colour left her face 

and then returned to it in a crimson 


u We have news for 
you, and want you to 
come with us immedi- 
ately, " I said. 

" Have you met my 
cousin ? " she asked. "He 
left by the eight o'clock 
train for London ~ mean- 
ing to go straight out to 
Hampstead. 71 

"Then in that case he 
will soon be back," I 
answered; "and we have 
not a moment to lose* 
Dr, Chetwynd has dis- 
covered the key to the 
secret of the disc. Will 
you come with us at once 
to the old Roman villa?" 
" We ought to take tools 
with us," said Chetwynd. 

" I noticed some there 
yesterday," I replied, "left 
behind doubtless by the 
workmen. Come, Miss 

On our way to the 
ruins I told the excited 
of what Chetwynd had ex- 
From the depths of despair 
she seemed suddenly to reach the very 
pinnacle of hope, 

"Oh, I am certain now I shall be saved, I 
am certain of it/' she said. She could 
scarcely sit still owing to the feverish excite- 
ment which was consuming her 

At last we reached the mount! a nil hurried 
to the site of the old Roman villa. Without 
a word Chetwynd went forward, gazing 
eagerly to and fro with his eyes bent upon 
the mosaic of the pavement, Suddenly he 

" Look at this, Cato," he said He knelt 
down and pointed from the paper he held in 
his hand to one of the patterns on the pave- 

tl Line for line the same/ 1 he said ; " this 
is it beyond doubt Now for one of those 
ptck-axes — there is something more than mere 

coincidence .here." 

Original from 


girl something 
plained to me. 



I quickly fetched one of the picks, and in- 
serting the point beneath the edge of the tile 
levied it up T ut once discovering a deep 
cavity. My heart sank at the ease with 
which it came up. It had evidently been 
quite recently disturbed. 

"We have been forestalled/' cried Chet- 
wynd ; "your 
uncle. Miss Sea- 
field, must have 
found the pot- 
tery here,' 3 He 
lay down as he 
spoke, and 
thrust his arm 
into the hole. 

"Yes, it is 
quite empty," he 
said ; " but, no, 
there is some- 
thing. It is no 
Roman treasure, 
however, noth- 
ing but a modern 
tin case." 

He drew out 
a long, symmet- 
rical case, and 
tearing off the 
-lop, exposed a 
roll of parch- 
ment He had 
scarcely done so 
before the sound 
of horse's hoofs 
at full gallop 
were heard to 
our right, and 
the next mo- 
men t James 
Royal had drawn 
up and sprung 
from his saddle. 

II What are you doing here, you scoun- 
drels?" he cried, u You have found some- 
thing ; hand it over to me — it is my property." 

His face was literally aflame with passion 
and drink. 

"Pardon me," replied Chetwynd, as he 
glanced through the parchment " This 
belongs to your father's executors. It is a 
holograph will dated three years ago, and 
made before his illness. From its contents 
I see that he disinherits you, and bequeaths 
Court Royal and his whole real and personal 
estate to his niece. Primrose Sea field/' 

These words Fell upon us all like a thunder- 

bolt The scene of the next few moments 
baffles description, and I need not mention 
the disgraceful exhibition of frenzied rage 
and bad language that Royal gave way to. 
Had I not been there, it is almost certain 
he would have overpowered Chetwynd and 
destroyed the will. We returned, however, 

with it to Court 
Royal in tri- 
umph, and later 
in the day I ex- 
plained my 
theory with re- 
gard to it to 
Primrose Sea- 

M Your uncle's 
craze for hiding 
things led him 
to put the will 
here," I said ; 
11 beyond doubt, 
his mind was 
not right when 
he did so. You 
had a narrow 
shave, Miss Sea- 
field, of being 
the most un- 
happy woman 
in the world, but 
things are all 
right now." 

"They are, 
they arc," she 
cried, " and I 
owe it all to you. 
I shall never, as 
long as I live, be 
able to thank 
you enough, I 
have already 
wired to Mr. 
down here this 


Kelvin, and he is coming 

" And your cousin ? " I said. 

"He left Court Royal half an hour ago. 
Whether he will come back or not remains to 
be proved." 

" His game is up," I answered. " I do not 
think you will be troubled with him any more." 

In this conjecture I was partly right 
fames Royal died within the year, a hopeless 
victim to the worst form of the drink mania. 

Primrose, however, long before that event 
took place became the happy wife of the 
man she loved best in the world. 

by Google 

Original from 

Faying an Election Bet. 

(Some facts regarding the election wager made between Benjamin Li Hard and H> Pitcher Woodward 
in the autumn of i8g6 f in New York City, Illustrations mainly from Mr m Woodwards own Photographs, j 

of McKinley, and money, or cash odds, Lillard 
declined to give, I must wear a frock-coat, 
top-hat, and large spectacles, and my donkey 
must wear spectacles too. At the end of my 
thousandth mile I was photographed in my 
curious rig, and the opening illustration shows 
my dilapidated silk hat, and my storm-coat 
worn over my frock-coat, also my sweater and 
regulation spectacles* I was not required to 
take one particular donkey across the conti- 
nent, but I must purchase the first one before 
leaving the city, and pay for it from my 
earnings after tiny official start. I was re- 
quired to traverse certain popular thorough- 
fares in New York City on the donkey in my 
route, and besides my clothes and 99 cents 
(which was not a dollar) I was allowed one 

At 2 p,m< s Friday, November 27th, 1896, 
Mr. Lillard assisted me into the saddle of a 
borrowed donkey in front of the Bartholdi 
Hotel, Broadway and Twenty-third Street, 
and I forthwith retired to the hotel parlour 
to sell photographs of myself seated on my 
wfc, *. htckisr woopwAjtn, as he looked after t^avelliug borrowed steed. Several hundred acquaint- 

1,000 MlLtiV. SHOWING DILAPIDATED Sll-K HAT, SWEATER, , j .1 1 .1 ■ 

and rbgulatiun spectacles, anees had gathered there to give me a 

ftwn^photoffrap*. "send-off," and while I sold the pictures I 

N the event of Bryan being had secured on credit, the photographer 
elected President, Mr. Lilian! wailed in ihe parlour to receive his pay. 
must pay me 
$5,000 cash. 
If McKinley 
were elected 
Mr. Lillard 
ride a 


I must pay 
$5,000 cash, 

donkey from New York to 
San Francisco within one 
year from election day, Nov, 
3rd, 1896, starting from 
New York within one month 
from said date without a 
dollar in pocket, and 
honestly earning my way to 
my destination, I must 
not beg, or receive gratuities 
in money. I could accept 
presents or hospitality. 

The opportunity to save 
Qiy $5,000 in case of 
Bryan's defeat by accom- 
plishing the proposed extra- 
ordinary feat was given as 
a form of odds, as in all 
cases of betting at the time 
odds were offered in favour 

Digitized by \j< 



FLE1X3E STUCK 1 nj 14 i_^f|0ffl4R|]f. Ti^TER a blizzard. 





Mr. IJllard saw that the contract was 
carried out to the letter, and I had reason to 
believe I was watched by hU agents along my 
route of travels. I was unable to sell suffi- 
cient pictures to obtain the price of the 
donkey, $25, without engendering much 
delay and consequent arrest by the police for 
causing a blockade in the street, so, hearing 
a newsboy call the afternoon paper, "All 
about the Silver-man's ride," I rushed to the 
door j bought his papers, scribbled my name 
on them in blue lead, and sold them for 
various sums to the crowd with- 
out. In a few moments I sent 
for the donkey, and amid cheers 
from the multitude I rode down 

It was the most embarrassing 
moment of my life, Society 
lady friends, club friends, and 
college friends were there to 
see the " fun," as they termed it. 
My long-eared steed seemed to 
be thoroughly disgusted w T ith 
his lot, and particularly his 
rider, and continually placed us 
in perilous positions in front 
of cable ears. At Puughkeepsie, 
on the Hudson, I traded him 
for a younger and nimbler 
animal, Macaroni IX; and this 
little donkey I brought through 
to the Golden Gate, over 4,000 
miles by trail actually travelled, 
within the prescribed time* I 
reached Sun Francisco and re- 
gistered at the hotel twenty-two 

Digitized by V^i< 

hours ahead of time, having 
consumed 340 days on the 
journey, thus saving my 

I visited m route the cities 
of Canton, O., the home of 
McKinley, who was under 
doctor's orders not to receive 
visitors, and Lincoln, Neb., 
the home of Bryan, where I 
was entertained by his wife at 
home. I met Mr. Bryan in 
Chicago, en route. The visit- 
ing of McKinley and Bryan 
w r ere conditions of my wager. 
On the early part of my 
journey I was very sensitive 
to criticism and ridicule, but 
I finally travelled and lived 
and thrived on "nerve." The 
blizzards I encountered during 
the winter in New York were 
a severe menace to my health and progress, 
and one of the photographs shows the hard- 
ships in transit over the snow which my 
donkey and sledge were forced to overcome. 
My donkey is shown stuck fast in a drift. 
The hard times were even more menacing to 
my success. I could scarcely support myself 
and donkey at times. It being a Republican, 
or "gold coinage" State, I was discouraged 
on every hand by high prices and disappoint- 
ing returns from sales, lectures, bills at the 
theatres, etc. I often traded a photo, for a 

fYrcn? a] IK ILLINOIS— MAKlNC?. rtflAjpff+ft |f»K TITS MISSISSIPPI, [FftolQ, 




milk punch as a sub- 
stitute for a meal , and 
paid my last ten cents 
for a loaf of bread 
fur my donkey. Here 
and there I chopped 
wood to pay for a 
meal, and was often 
photographed while 
at my arduous task. 
I sometimes lost my 
way, and all winter 
long had to walk and 
trail or drive my 
donkey to keep warm, 
I froze my ears twice, 
once my nose, and 
one night Macaroni 
refused to proceed 
farther, compelling me 



and there were nine 
more States in my 
direct route to tra- 
verse in less than nine 
months. But the 
farther westward I 
went, the easier I 
made money, and the 
more favourable the 
weather, lies ides, my 
steed and myself were 
both becoming initi- 
ated to the trials of 
the journey. 

The plains of 
Nebraska were lovely 
in May, and the 
Rocky Mountains 
afforded me a de- 
lightful change of 
scenery. From Chi- 
I had two donkeys, 
and from Central Iowa three, 
one of which was ridden by 
my valet, whom I had engaged 
at Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The 
distance began to increase be- 
tween towns and habitations 
the farther west I travelled, 
and necessitated my camping 
out. One of my photographs 
shows the outfit, and several 
show the faithful mules which 
accompanied me. When Hear- 
ing Omaha, Macaroni refused 
to cross the Missouri River 
bridge, and had to be bundled 
into a wheelbarrow, and 
wheeled across by force. 


to sleep in a haymow, several 
degrees below /em. 

It was only the determina- 
tion of my resolve to accomplish 
what I set out to do, and the 
knowledge of my disgrace before 
my friends should I give Up the 
task, which held me patiently 
and persistently to my trying 
wager. It took me over eleven 
weeks nearly three months, to 
pass through New York State^ 

ay Google 


H t?iOTWdrn 




In Omaha T purchased a tent and camp 
outfit, and soon after a fowling-piece, with 
which I provided game, grouse, quail, doves, 
rabbits, etc. As I moved westward, the more 
cordial, generous, and hospitable I noticed 
the people. I could discard my top-hat at the 
Mississippi River, and I did so, substituting 
a sombrero. From the commencement of 
my overland journey I was entertained at 
private residences, at clubs, by mayors and 
high officials generally; and many times 
mayors rode my 
donkey up and down 
the street when I had 
concluded my out-of- 
door lecture to the 
amusement and ap- 
plause of the multi- 

One photograph 
shows an Indiana 
mayor bidding me 
good-bye an inter- 
esting and affecting 
farewell, which had 
been preceded by an 
exhibition of donkey- 
riding by the mayor 
himself, before a 
crowd of Silver 

I visited the gov- 
ernors and mayors 

everywhere, received their best 
wishes and their autographs, I 
escaped sickness throughout my 
journey, save a severe cold I 
suffered in the Hudson Valley, 
and narrowly averted injury or 
death on several occasions, from 
a mad bull, from footpads who 
shot at me, from a fall through a 
bridge, and again down a preci- 
pice in the Rockies, from two des- 
peradoes on the Nevada desert, 
and from a storm while crossing 
the Sierras ; I was also lost in 
the desert on two occasions. 

On the plains my experiences 
were amusing and exciting. The 
photograph of my camp on the 
plains shows a hand of cowboys 
in the background, giving an 
exhibition of riding before start- 
ing out on a "roundup," In 
the foreground is my dog Don, 
presented to me in New York 
State, resting his sore feet. 
Through the Chihuahua Pass to 
Eureka, Nevada, I was kindly trailed by a 
ranchman- another evidence of the helpful- 
ness that met me at nearly every stage of my 

My method of defence against the two 
desperadoes is shown below. It took place 
at " Thirty Mile Spring," on the eastern 
border of Nevada, and Macaroni played in 
this little drama a quiet but effective part. 
I must not omit to mention that when cross- 
ing the dreaded red desert of Utah, which is 


From a Fkato, bj/ Talw\ tie* ^sjtf'jw, 


J 5 2 


enjoyed good health, and many 
pleasant experiences, derived a 
more thorough knowledge of 
my country than I could have 
done by crossing by train a 
hundred times, made many 
valued friends, and arrived at 
my journey's end with money 
in pocket, 2olb. more flesh than 
I ever before had registered, 
and with the satisfaction of 
letting others know that when I 
say I shall do a certain thing 
I shall do it if it is possible 
to be accomplished. 1 may 


part of the great Salt Lake Desert, 
my store of water gave out. Despera- 
does were but a trifle in comparison 
with such a catastrophe, for the 
journey across was seventy -five miles, 
taking three days. It may be imagined 
with what bitterness I drained the last 
drop from my canteen. 

The goal of my long journey hove 
in sight when I arrived in Oakland, 
and it was in a dirty and dilapidated 
condition that I embarked on the 
ferry-boat for San Francisco. The 
wager was won, and there \va* no 
longer need for my outlandish costume. 
The barber soon took me in hand, 
and quickly sheared me into a gentle- 
man again, and the tailor clothed me 
in civilized garb, I was then photo- 
graphed, as shown 
below, and with little 
delay began a well- 
earned rest. 

I had eleven donkeys 
from start to finish, five 
at one time, when cross- 
ing the great Salt Desert, 
but arrived in San Fran- 
cisco with only two. 
I wore out ten pairs of 
boots, had over too 
shoes put on my 
don keys, sometimes 
costing me $i for each 
shoe* I lived comfort- 
ably, even luxuriously, 
from Chicago westward, 


add that it is not a 
little satisfaction to 
know that, in case 
reverses should come, 
one can rely on his 
own resources to pull 
him through the 
dilemma, even if sud- 
denly stranded with 
less than a dollar in 
pocket. But I say, for 
the benefit of those 
who grow enthusiastic 
over elections, do not 
be led to wager anything 
more than a hat on the 
result at the polls. 


** * FMv - * ra4er ' *" """fttiginal from 

A Master of Craft, 

By W, W. Jacobs. 


E brought up off Greenwich in 
the cold grey of the breaking 
clay. Craft of all shapes and 
sizes were passing up and 
down, but he looked in vain 
for any sign of the skipper. 
It was galling to him as a seaman to stay 
there with the wind blowing freshly down 
the river; but over an hour elapsed before a 
yell from Tim, who was leaning over the 
bows, called his attention to a waterman's 

OE>- Ilkl-'l-AUU-H, 

skiff, in the stern of which sat a passenger of 
somewhat dejected appearance. He had 
the air of a man who had been up all night, 
and in the place of returning the hearty and 
significant greeting of the mate, sat down in 
an exhausted fashion on the cabin skylight^ 
and eyed him in stony silence until they 
were under way again. 

i( Well," he said, at length, ungraciously. 

Chilled by his manner, Fraser, in place of 
the dramatic fashion in which he had in- 
tended to relate the events of the preceding 
night, told him in a few curt sentences what 
had occurred, i% And you can finish this 
business for yourself," he concluded, warmly ; 
** Fve had enough of it J> 

" You've made a pretty mess of it," groaned 
the other ; u there'll be a fine set-out now. 

Copyright, 1899, by W. W. Jacobs, 

by GOOglC 

Why couldn't you coax 'em away ? That's 
what I wanted you to do. That's what I 
tefdyou to do." 

"Well, you'll have plenty of opportunities 
of coaxing yourself, so far as I can see/' 
retorted Fraser, grimly, "Then you'll see 
how it works. It was the only way of getting 
rid of them." 

"You ought to have sent round to me and 
let me know what you were doing," said 
Flower, " I sat in that blamed pub till they 
turned me out at twelve, expecting you every 

minute, I'd only 
threepence left by 
then t and I crossed 
the water with that, 
and then I had 
to shuffle along to 
Greenwich as best 
I could with a bad 
foot. What'll be 
the end of it all, I 
don't know." 

" Well, you're all 
right at present," 
said Fraser, glanc- 
ing round ; " rather 
different to what 
you'd have been 
if those two 
women had come 
to Seabridge and 
seen Cap'n Barber." 
The other sat 
for a long time in 
thought. " Til lay up for a few weeks 
with this foot at Seabridge," he said, 
slowly, " and you'll have to tell the Tipping 
family that I've changed into another trade. 
What with the worry I've had lately, I shall 
be glad of the rest." 

He made his way below, and turning in 
slept soundly after his fatigue until the cook 
aroused him a few hours later with the 
information that breakfast w p as ready* 

A wash and a change, together with a 
good breakfast, effected as much change in 
his spirits as in his appearance. Refreshed 
in mind and body he slowly paced the deck, 
his chest expanding as he sniffed the fresh 
air, and his soul, encouraged by the dangers 
he had already passed through, bracing itself 
for fresh encounters. 

Vol *viii.-20. 

in l he United Slates of America. 




"I 'ope the foot is goin' on well, sir," 
said Tim, breaking in upon his meditations 

" Much easier this morning," said the 
skipper, amiably. 

Tim, who was lending the cook a hand, 
went back into the galley to ponder. As a 
result of a heated debate in the fo'c's'le, 
where the last night's proceedings and the 
mysterious ap- 
pearance of the 
sk ipper off Green- 
wich had caused 
a great sensa- 
tion, they had 
drawn lots to 
decide who was 
to bell the cat, 
and Tim had 
won or lost ac- 
cording as the 
subject might be 

"You don't 
want to walk 
about on it much, 
sir," he said, 
thrusting his head 
out again. 

The skipper 

"I was alarmed 
last night," said 
Tim. " We was 
all alarmed," he 
added, hastily, in 
order that the 
others might stand in with the risk, " think- 
ing that p'r'aps you'd walked too far and 
couldn't get back." 

The master of the Foam looked at him, 
but made no reply, and Tim's head was 
slowly withdrawn. The crew, who had been 
gazing over the side with their ears at the 
utmost tension, gave him five minutes' grace, 
and then, the skipper having gone aft again, 
walked up to the galley. 

" I've done all I could," said the wretched 

" Done all ye could ? " said Joe, derisively ; 
" why, you ain't done nothin' yet." ■ 

" I can't say anything more," said Tim. "I 
dassent. I ain't got your pluck, Joe." 

" Pluck be blowed," said the seaman, 
fiercely ; "why, there was a chap I knew once, 
shipwrecked he was, and had to take to the 
boats. When the grub give out they drew 
lots to see who should be killed and eaten. 
He lost. Did 'e back out of it ? Not a bit 

of it ; 'e was a man, an' 'e shook 'ands 
with 'em afore they ate 'im and wished 'em 

" Well, you can kill and eat me, if that's 
what you want," said Tim, desperately. " I'd 
sooner 'ave that." 

" Mind you," said Joe, " till you've arsked 
them questions and been answered satisfac- 
tory — none of us'll 'ave anything to do with 


you, besides which I'll give you such a licking 
as you've never 'ad before." 

He strolled off with Ben and the cook as 
the skipper came towards them again, and 
sat down in the bows. Tim, sore afraid of 
his shipmate's contempt, tried again. 

"I wanted to ask your pardon in case 
I done wrong last night, sir," he said, 

" All right, it's granted," replied the other, 
walking away. 

Tim raised his eyes to heaven, and then 
lowering them, looked even more beseechingly 
at his comrades. 

" Go on," said Ben, shaping the words only 
with his mouth. 

" I don't know, sir, whether you know what 
I was alloodin' to just now," said Tim, in 
trembling accents, as the skipper came within 
earshot again. " I'm a-referring to a cab- 

" And I told you that I've forgiven you," 

by LiOOgle 



l 55 

said Flower, sternly, " forgiven you freely, 
All of you." 

"It's a relief to my mind, sir," faltered the 
youth, staring, 

" Don't mix yourself up in my business 
again, that's all," said the skipper; "you 
mightn't get off so easy next time/' 

" It's been worrying me ever since, sir," 
persisted Tim, who was half fainting. " I've 
been wondering whether I ought to have 
answered them ladies 1 
questions, and told 'em 
what I did tell *cm. Jj 

The skipper swung 
round hastily and con- 
fronted him. "Told 
them? " he stuttered, " told 
them what ? " 

" I 'ardly re- 
member, sir/' 
said Tim, alarm- 
ed at his manner. 
"Wot with the 
suddenness o' the 
thing, an' the 
luckshury o' rid- 
ing in a cab, my 
? ead was in a 

"What did 
they ask you ? " 
demanded the 

** They asked 
me what Cap'n 
Flower was like 
an' where T e 
lived," said Tim, 
"an' they asked 
me whether I 
knew a Mr. Rob- 

Captain Flower, 
his eyes blazing, 

"I said I 'adn't got the 
Mr. Robinson's 

with a grand air. "I was just 
tell J em about you when Joe 'ere 
a pinch/ 5 

" Well ? " inquired the skipper, stamping 
with impatience. 

u I pinched *im back agin, sir," said Tim, 
smiling tenderly at the reminiscence. 

"Tim's a fool, sir," said Joe, suddenly, as 
the overwrought skipper made a move 
" 'E didn't seem to know 
of, so I up and told 'em 


pleasure o* 
acquaintance," said Tim, 



towards the galley, 
wot 'e was a-sayin' 
all about you." 

by Google 

* ( You did, did you ? Curse you," said 
Flower, bitterly, 

41 In answer to their questions, sir," said 
Joe, " I told ? em you was a bald-headed chap 
marked with the small-pox, and I said when 
you was at 'ome, which was seldom, you 
lived at Aberdeen." 

The skipper stepped towards him and laid 
his hand affectionately on his shoulder, 
u You ought to have been an admiral, Joe," 

he said, gratefully, 
without intending any 
slur on a noble pro- 

M I also told George 

the watchman to tell 

'em the same thing, 

if they came round 

again worry - 

ing," said Joe, 


The skipper 
patted him on 
the shoulder 

u One o' these 
days, Joe," he 
remarked, "you 
shall know all 
about this little 
affair ; for the 
present it's 
enough to tell 
you that a cer- 
tain unfortunate 
young female has 
taken a fancy to 
a friend o 1 mine 
named Robin- 
son, but it's very 
important, for 
Robinson's sake, 
that she should- 
n't see me or 
get to know 
anything about me- Do you understand ? " 
u Perfeckly," said Joe 3 sagely. 
His countenance was calm and composed, 
but the cook's forehead had wrinkled itself 
into his hair in a strong brain effort, while 
Ben was looking for light on the deck, and 
not finding it. Flower, as a sign that the 
conversation was now ended, walked aft 
again, and taking the wheel from the mate, 
thoughtfully suggested that he should go 
below and turn in for five minutes* 

"Til get through this all right after all," he 
said, comfortably. " I'll lay up at Seabridge 
for a week or two. and after that I'll get off 




the schooner at Greenwich for a bit and let 
you take her up to London. Then I'll write 
a letter in the name of Robinson and send 
it to a man I know in New York to post 
from there to Miss Tipping." 

His spirits rose and he slapped Fraser 
heartily on the back, "That disposes of 
one," he said, cheerily. " Lor', in years to 
come how I shall look back and laugh over 
all this ! " 

"Yes, I think it'll be some time before 
you do any laughing to speak of," said 

" Ah, you always look on the dark side of 
things," said Flower, briskly. 

" Of course, as things are, you're going to 
marry Miss Banks," said Fraser, slowly. 

"No, I'm not," said the other, cheerfully; 
"it strikes me there's plenty of time before 
that will come to a head, and that gives me 
time to turn round. I don't think she's any 
more anxious for it than I am." 

" But suppose it does come to a head," 
persisted Fraser, "what are you going to 

"I shall find a way out of it," said the 
skipper, confidently. " Meantime, just as an 
exercise, for your wits, you might try and 
puzzle out what would be the best thing to 
do in such a case." 

His good spirits lasted all the way to 
Seabridge, and, the schooner berthed, he 
went cheerfully off home. It was early after- 
noon when he arrived, and, Captain Barber 
being out, he had a comfortable tete-a-tete 
with Mrs. Church, in which he was able to 
dilate pretty largely upon the injury to his 
foot. Captain Barber did not return until 
the tea was set, and then, shaking hands with 
his nephew, took a seat opposite, and in a 
manner more than usually boisterous, kept 
up a long conversation. 

It was a matter of surprise to Flower that, 
though the talk was by no means of a sorrow- 
ful nature, Mrs. Church on three separate 
occasions rose from the table and left the 
room with her handkerchief to her eyes. At 
such times his uncle's ideas forsook him, and 
he broke off not only in the middle of a 
sentence, but even in the middle of a word. 
At the third time Flower caught his eye, and 
with a dumb jerk of his head toward the 
door inquired what it all meant. 

" Tell you presently," said his uncle, in a 
frightened whisper. " Hush ! Don't take 
no notice of it. Not a word." 

" What is it ? " persisted Flower. 

Captain Barber gave a hurried glance 
towards the door and then leaned over the 

table. " Broken 'art," he whispered, sorrow- 

Flower whistled, and, full of the visions 
which this communication opened up, 
neglected to join in the artificial mirth which 
his uncle was endeavouring to provoke upon 
the housekeeper's return. Finally he worked 
up a little mirth on his own account, and 
after glancing from his uncle to the house- 
keeper, and from the housekeeper back to his 
uncle again, smothered his face in his hand- 
kerchief and rushed from the room. 

" Bit on a bad tooth," he said, untruthfully, 
when he came back. 

Captain Barber eyed him fiercely, but Mrs. 
Church regarded him with compassionate 
interest, and, having got the conversation 
upon such a safe subject, kept it there until 
the meal was finished. 

"What's it all about?" inquired Flower, 
as, tea finished, Captain Barber carried his 
chair to the extreme end of the garden and 
beckoned his nephew to do likewise. 

" You're the cause of it," said Captain 
Barber, severely. 

" Me ? " said Flower, in surprise. 

" You know that little plan I told you of 
when you was down here last ? " said the 

His nephew nodded. 

"It came off," groaned Captain Barber. 
" I've got news for you as'll make you dance 
for joy." 

" I've got a bad foot," said Flower, paling. 

"Never mind about your foot," said his 
uncle, regarding him fixedly. " Your banns 
are up." 

" Up ! Up where ? " gasped Flower. 

" Why — in the church," said the other, 
staring at him ; " where'd you think ? I got 
the old lady's consent day before yesterday, 
and had 'em put up at once." 

" Is she dead, then ? " inquired his nephew, 
in a voice the hollowness of which befitted 
the question. 

" How the deuce could she be ? " returned 
his uncle, staring at him. 

"No, I didn't think of that," said Flower ; 
" of course, she couldn't give her consent, 
could she ? — not if she was dead, I mean." 

Captain Barber drew his chair back and 
looked at him. " His joy has turned his 
brain," he said, with conviction. 

" No, it's my foot," said Flower, rallying. 
" I've had no sleep with it. I'm delighted ! 
Delighted ! After all these years." 

" You owe it to me," said his uncle, with a 
satisfied air. " I generally see my way clear to 
what I want, and generally get it, too. I've 


a I I I '.' I 1 1 





played Mrs. Banks and Mrs* Church 
one another without their knowing it. 
'elpless in my hands* they way." 

" But what's the matter with Mrs, Church ? * 
said his depressed nephew* 

" Ah, that's the worst of it," said Uncle 
Barber, shaking his head. " While I was in 
play that pore woman must have thought 
I was in earnest* She don't say nothing. 
Not a word, and the efforts she makes to 
control her feelings is noble." 

" Have you told her she has got to go, 
then ? " inquired Flower* 

Captain Barber shook his head. M Mrs. 
Banks saved me that trouble," he said, 

" But she cant take notice from Mrs, 
Banks," said Flower, "it'll have to come 
from you." 

"All in good time," said Captain Barber, 
wiping his face* " As I've done all this for 
you, I was going to let you tell her." 


" Me /" said Flower, with emphasis. 

"Certainly/' said Captain Barber, with 
more emphasis still "Just get her to your- 
self on the quiet, and allude to it casual. 
Then after that bring the subject up when 
I'm in the room. As it's to make room for 
you and your wife, you might fix the date for 
'er to go. That'll be the best way to do it." 

" It seems to me it is rather hard on her," 
said his nephew, compassionately ■ "perhaps 
we had better wait a little longer." 

" Certainly not," said Captain Barber, 
sharply; "don't I tell you your banns are 
up? You're to be asked in church first time 
next Sunday, You'll both live with me as 
agreed, and I'm going to make over three o* 
the cottages to you and a half share in the 
ship. The rest you'll have to wait for. Why 
don't you look cheerful ? You ought to." 

" I'm cheerful enough," said Flower, re- 
covering himself, " I'm thinking of you." 
" Me ? " said his uncle. 
"You and Mrs, Church," said his nephew; 
"so far as I can see you've committed 

" I can manage," said Uncle Barber. "IVe 
always been master in my own house. Now 
you'd better step round and see the bride 
that is to be," 

" Well, you be careful," said his nephew, 


"I'm coming 
too," said Captain 
Barber, with some 
haste ; "there's no 
need to stay and 
wait for trouble. 
When you go into 
the house, come 
back as though 
you'd forgotten 
something, and sing 
out to me that you 
want me to come 
too — ha rd enough 
for V to hear, 

The bewildered 
master of the 
Foam spent the 
remainder of the 
time at Seabridge 
in a species of 
waking nightmare. 

A grey ■ haired 
dressmaker and ;i 
small apprentice 
sat in the Banks's 
a chaos of brown 
over with pins a 

best parlour, and from 
paper patterns stuck 


silk dress of surpassing beauty began 

slowly to emerge. As a great concession 

Flower was allowed to feel the material, 

and even to rub it between his finger 

and thumb in imitation of Captain Barber, 

who w r as so prone to the exercise that 
Original Trom 






a small piece was cut off for his especial 
delectation, A colour of unwonted softness 
glowed in the cheek of Elizabeth and an air 
of engaging timidity tempered her interview 
with Flower, who had to run the gauntlet of 
much friendly criticism on the part of his fair 

Up to the time of sailing for London again 
the allusion to Mrs. Church's departure 
desired of Captain Barber had not been 
made by the younger man. The house- 
keeper was still in possession^ and shook 
hands with him at the front door as he limped 
slowly off with Miss Banks and his uncle to 
go down to the schooner. His foot was still 
very bad, so bad that he stumbled three 
times on the way to the quay despite the 
assistance afforded by the arm of his 

" Seems to be no power in it t " he said, 
smiling faintly; "but I daresay it'll be all 
right by the time I get back," 

He shook hands with Captain Barber 
and, as a tribute to conventionality, 
kissed Miss Banks. The last the two 
saw of him, he was standing at the wheel 
waving his handkerchief. They waved 
their own in return, and as the Fmm 
drew rapidly away gave a final farewell 
and departed. 

" What's the game with the foot ? " inquired 
the mate, in a low voice, 

"Tell you by-and-by," said the 
" it's far from well, but even if it 

Digitized by Gc 





should pretend it 
was bad, I sup- 
pose that don't 
suggest anything to 

The mate shook 
his head. 

" Can you see 
any way out of 
it ? " inquired the 
other, "What would 
you do if you were 
in my place ? " 

" Marry the girl 
I wanted to marry," 
said the mate, 
sturdily, " and not 
trouble about any- 
thing else." 

" And lose thir- 
teen cottages and 
this ship, and my 
berth in the bar^ 
gain/' said the 
skipper, tl Now, 
of some other way, 
thought of it by 
you what Vm going 

skipper ; 
wasn't I 

dinner-time, I'll tell 
to do." 

No other scheme having suggested itself 
to the mate by the time that meal arrived, he 
prepared to play the part of listener. The 
skipper, after carefully closing both the door 
and the skylight, prepared to speak. 

" Pm in a desperate fix, Jack — that you'll 
admit," he said, by w r ay of preparation. 

The mate cordially agreed with him, 

"There's Poppy down at Poplar, Matilda 
at Chelsea, and Elizabeth at Seabridge/' 
continued Flower, indicating various points on 
the table with his finger as he spoke, " Some 
men would give up in despair, but I've 
thought of a way out of it, I've never got 
into a corner I couldn't get out of yet" 

" You want a little help, though, some- 
times," said Fraser. 

"All part of my plans," rejoined Flower, 
airily. "If it hadn't been for my uncle's 
interference I should have been all right. A 
man's no business to be so officious. As it 
is, I've got to do something decided." 

" If I were you," interrupted Fraser, " I 
should go to Captain Barber and tell him 
straight and plain how the thing stands. 
You needn't mention anything about Miss 
Tipping. Tell him about the other, and that 
you intend to marry her. It'll be best in the 
long run, and fairer to Miss Tyrell, too*" 

" You don't know mv uncle as well as I 
Original from 




do," retorted the skipper. " He's as obstinate 
an old fool as ever breathed. If I did as you 
say I should lose everything. Now, 111 tell 
you what I'm going to do. To-night, 
during your watch, I shall come up on 
deck and stand on the side of the ship to 
look at something in the water, when I 
shall suddenly hear a shout." 

The mate, who had a piece of dumpling 
on his fork, half-way to his mouth, put 
it down again and regarded him open- 

"My foot^" continued the skipper, in 
surprisingly even tones,' considering his 
subject, "will then give way and I shall 
fall overboard." 

The mate was about to speak, but the 
skipper, gazing in a rapt manner before him, 
waved him into silence. 

"You will alarm the crew and pitch a 
lifebelt overboard," he continued ; " you will 
then back sails and lower the boat" 

"You'd better take the lifebelt with 
you, hadn't you ? " inquired the mate, 

"I shall be picked up by a Norwegian 
barque, bound for China," continued the 
skipper, ignoring the interruption ; " I shall 
be away at least six months, perhaps more, 
according as things turn out." 

The mate pushed his scarcely tasted dinner 
from him, and got up from the table. It 
was quite evident to him that the skipper's 
love affairs had turned his brain. 

" By the time I get back, Matilda'll have 
ceased from troubling, any way," said the 
skipper, "and I have strong hopes that 
Elizabeth'll take Gibson. I shall stay away 
long enough to give her a fair chance, any 

" But s'pose you get drowned before any- 
thing can pick you up ! " suggested the mate, 

" Drowned ? " repeated the skipper. " Why, 
you didn't think I was really going over- 
board, did you? I shall be locked up in 
my state-room." 

The mate's brow cleared and then 
darkened again, suddenly. "I see, some 
more lies for me to tell, I suppose," he 
said, angrily. 

" After you've raised the alarm and failed 
to recover the body," said the skipper, with 
relish, " you'll lock my door and put the key 
in your pocket. That would be the proper 
thing to do if I really did go overboard, you 
know, and when we get to London I'll just 
slip quietly ashore." 

The mate came back to his dinner and 

by LiOOgle 

finished it in silence, while the skipper kept 
up a rambling fire of instructions for his 
future guidance. 

" And what about Miss Tyrell ? " said the 
mate, at length. " Is she to know ? " 

" Certainly not," said Flower, sharply. " I 
wouldn't have her know for anything. You're 
the only person to know, Jack. You'll have 
to break the news to 'em all, and mind you 
do it gently, so as not to cause more grief 
than you can help." 

" I won't do it at all," said the mate. 

"Yes, you will," said Flower, "and if 
Matilda or her mother come down again, 
show it .to 'em in the paper. Then they'll 
know it'll be no good worrying Cap'n Flower 
again. If they see it in the paper they'll 
know it's true. It's sure to be in the local 
papers, and in the London ones too, very 
likely. I should think it would ; the master 
of a vessel ! " 

Fraser being in no mood to regard this 
vanity complacently, went up on deck and 
declined to have anything to do with the 
matter. He maintained this attitude of im- 
movable virtue until tea-time, by which time 
Flower's entreaties had so won upon him 
that he was reluctantly compelled to admit 
that it seemed to be the only thing possible 
in the circumstances, and more reluctantly 
still to promise his aid to the most un- 
scrupulous extent possible. 

" I'll write to you when I'm fixed up," 
said the skipper, " giving you my new name 
and address. You're the only person I 
shall be able to keep touch with. I shall 
have to rely upon you for everything. 
If it wasn't for you I should be dead to 
the world." 

"I know what you'll do as well as 
possible," said Fraser; "you've got nothing 
to do for six months, and you'll be getting 
into some more engagements." 

" I don't think you have any call to say 
that, Jack," remarked Flower, with some 

" Well, I wish it was well over," said the 
mate, despondently. " W r hat are you going 
to do for money ? " 

" I drew out ^40 to get married with — 
furniture and things," said Flower ; " that'll 
go overboard with me, of course. I'm doing 
all this for Poppy's sake more than my own, 
and I want you to go up and see her every 
trip, and let me know how she is. She 
mightn't care what happened to her if she 
thinks I'm gone, and she might marry some- 
body else in desperation." 

"I don't care about facing her," said 




Fraser, bitterly ; " it's a shady business 

" It s for her sake," repeated Flower, 
calmly. "Take on old Ben as mate, and 
ship another hand forward. n 

The mate ended the subject by going to 
his bunk and turning in ; the skipper, who 
realized that he himself would have plenty of 
time for sleep, went on deck and sat silently 
smoking. Old Ben was at the wheel, and 



the skipper felt a glow of self-righteousness as 
he thought of the rise in life he was about to 
give the poor fellow. 

At eight o'clock the mate relieved Ren, 
and the skipper, with a view of keeping up 
appearances, announced his intention of 
turning in for a bit. 

The sun went down behind clouds of 
smoky red, but the light of the summer 
evening lasted for some time after. Then 
darkness came down over the sea, and it was 
desolate except for the sidelights of distant 
craft- The mate drew out his watch and, 
by the light of the binnacle-lamp, saw that it 
was ten minutes to ten. At the same moment 
he heard somebody moving about forward. 

" Who's that forard ? " tie cried, smartly. 

Digitized by GQOglc 

" Me, sir," answered Joe's voice "I'm a 
bit wakeful, and it's stiflin 1 'ot down below." 
The mate hesitated, and then, glancing at 
the open skylight, saw the skipper, who was 
standing on the table. 

11 Send him below," said the latter, in a 
sharp whisper. 

" You'd better get below, Joe," said the 

" W'y, I ain't doin 1 no 'arm, sir," said Joe, 

in surprise. 
jl - "Get below," 

^f^r , said the mate, 

sharply. M Do 
you hear? — get 
below. You'll 
be sleeping in 
your watch if 
you don't sleep 
_ now." 

The sounds of 
a carefully modu- 
lated grumble 
came faintly aft, 
then the mate, 
leaning away from 
the wheel to avoid 
the galley which ob- 
structed his view, saw 
that his order had 
been obeyed. 

4t Now/ 1 said the 

pper,quietly, "you must 

give a perfect scream of 

horror, mind, and put this 

on the deck. It fell off 

as I went over, d'ye see ? " 

He handed over the slipper he 
had been wearing, and the mate 
took it surlily, 

"There ought to be a splash," 
he murmured " Joe 1 s awake." 
The skipper vanished, to reappear a minute 
or two later with a sack into which he had 
hastily thrust a few lumps of coal and other 
rubbish. The mate took it from him, and, 
placing the slipper on the deck, stood with 
one hand holding the wheel and the other 
the ridiculous sack. 

"Now," said I he skipper. 
The sack went overboard, and, at the 
same moment, the mate left the wheel with 
an ear-splitting yell and rushed to the galley 
for the life- belt which hung there. He 
crashed heavily into Joe, who had rushed on 
deck, but, without pausing, ran to the side 
and flung it overboard. 

"Skipper's overboard," he yelled, running 
back and putting the helm down, 
Original from 




Joe put his head down the fore-scuttle and 
yelled like a maniac : the others came up in 
their night-gear, and in a marvellously short 
space of time the schooner was hove to and 
the cook and Joe had tumbled into the boat 
and were pulling back 
lustily in search of 
the skipper. 

Half an hour 
elapsed, during which 
those on the schooner 
hung over the stern 
listening intently. 
They could hear the 
oars in the rowlocks 
and the shouts of the 
rowers* Tim lit a 
lantern and dangled 
it over the water, 

u Have you got 
J \m ? " cried Ben, as 
the boat came over 
the darkness and the 
light of the lantern 
shone on the up- 
turned faces of the 

"No," said Joe, 

Ben thr^w him a 
line, and he clam- 
bered silently aboard , 
followed by the 

"Better put about," 
he said to the mate, 
" and crutse about 
till daylight. We 
ain't found the belt 
either, and it's just 
possible he's got it." 

The mate shook his head. " It's 
good," he said, confidently ; " he's gone." 

" Well, I vote we try, anyhow," said Joe, 
turning on him fiercely. " How did it 
happen ? " 

" He came up on deck to speak to 
me," said the mate, shortly, u He fancied 
he heard a cry from the water and jumped 
up on the side with his hand on the rigging 
to see. I 5 'pose his bad foot slipped and he 
went over before I could move." 

" We'll cruise about a bit," said Joe, loudly, 
turning to the men. 

u Are you giving orders here, or am I ? " 
said the mate, sternly. 

u I am," said Joe, violently. " It's our 
duty to do all we can/' 

There was a dead silence, Tim, pushing 

VqL aviii.— 21. 

Digitized by C-OOQ I C 

himself in between Ben and the cook, eyed 

the men eagerly. 

"What do you mean by that?" said the 

mate at last. 

"Wot I say," said Joe, meeting him eye to 
eye, and thrusting his 
face close to his* 

The mate shrugged 
his shoulders and 
walked slowly aft \ 
then, with a regard 
for appearances which 
the occasion fully 
warranted, took the 
schooner for a little 
circular tour in the 
neighbourhood of the 
skipper's disappear- 

At daybreak, not 
feeling the loss quite 
as much as the men, 
he went below, and, 
having looked 
stealthily round, un- 
locked the door of 
the state-room and 
peeped in. It 


an EAk-sri.] tunc; yell. 


almost uncanny, con- 
sidering the circum- 
stances, to see in the 
dim light the figure 
— of the skipper sitting 
on the edge of his 

11 What the blazes 
are you doing, dodg- 
ing about like this ? n 
he burst out, ungrate- 

" Looking for the 
body," said the mate. ''Ain't you heard 
us shouting ? It's not my fault — the crew 
say they won't leave the spot while there f s 
half a chance." 

"Curse the crew," said the skipper, quite 
untouched by this devotion, "Ain't you 
taking charge o' the ship ? " 

"Joe's about half mad," said the mate. 
"It's wonderful how upset. he is, 7 ' 

The skipper cursed Joe separately, and the 
mate^ whose temper was getting bad, closed 
the interview by locking the door* 

At five o'clock, by which time they had 
chased three masses of weed and a barnacle* 
covered plank, they abandoned the search 
and resumed the voyage, A gloom settled 
on the forecastle, and the cook took advan- 
tage of the occasion to read Tim a homily 
Original from 




upon the shortness of life and the sudden- 
ness of death. Tim was much affected, but 
not nearly so much as when he discovered 
that the men were going to pay a last tribute 
to their late captain's memory by abstaining 
, from breakfast. He ventured to remark that 
the excitement and the night air had made 
him feel very hungry, and was promptly 
called an unfeeling little brute by the men 
for his pains. The mate, who, in deference 
to public opinion, had to keep up appearances 
the same way, was almost as much annoyed 
as Tim, and, as for the drowned man himself, 
his state of mind was the worst of all. He 
was so ungrateful that the mate at length lost 
his temper, and when dinner was served 
allowed a latent sense of humour to have 
full play. 

It consisted of boiled beef, with duff, 
carrots, and potatoes, and its grateful incense 
filled the cabin. The mate attacked it 
lustily, listening between mouthfuls for any 
interruption from the state-room. * At length, 
unable to endure it any longer, the prisoner 
ventured to scratch lightly on the door. 

"Histf" said the mate, in a whisper. 

The scratching ceased, and the mate, 
grinning broadly, resumed his dinner. He 
finished at last, and lighting his pipe sat back 
easily in the locker, watching the door out 
of the corner of his eye. 

With hunger gnawing at his vitals the un- 
fortunate skipper, hardly able to believe his 
ears, heard the cook come down and clear 
away. The smell of dinner gave way to that 
of tobacco, and the mate, having half finished 
his pipe, approached the door. 

" Are you there ? " he asked, in a whisper. 

"Of course I am, you fool," said the 
skipper, wrathfully ; " where's my dinner ? " 

" I'm very sorry " — began the mate, in a 

" What ? " inquired the skipper, fiercely. 

" I've mislaid the key," said the mate, 
grinning fiendishly. " An', what's more, I 
can't think what I've done with it." 

At this intelligence, the remnants of the 
skipper's temper vanished, and every bad 
word he had heard or read of, or dreamt 
of, floated from his hungry lips in frenzied 

" I can't hear what you say," said the mate. 

The prisoner was about to repeat his 
remarks with a few embellishments, when 
the mate stopped him with one little word. 
" Hist! " he said, quietly. 

At the imminent risk of bursting a blood- 
vessel or going mad the skipper stopped 

short, and the mate, addressing a remark 
to the cook who was not present, went up 
on deck. 

He found the key by tea-time, and, his 
triumph having made him generous, passed 
the skipper in a generous hunk of the cold 
beef with his tea. The skipper took it and 
eyed him wanly, having found an empty 
stomach very conducive to accurate thinking. 

"The next thing is to slip ashore at 
Wapping, Jack," he said, after he had finished 
his meal ; " the wharf '11 be closed by the time 
we get there." 

" The watchman's nearly sure to be asleep," 
said Fraser, " and you can easily climb the 
gate. If he's not, I must try and get him 
out of the way somehow." 

The skipper's forebodings proved to be 
correct. It was past twelve by the time 
they reached Wapping, but the watchman 
was wide awake and, with much bustle, 
helped them to berth their craft. He re- 
ceived the news of the skipper's untimely 
end with well - bred sorrow, and at once 
excited the wrath of the sensitive Joe by 
saying that he was not surprised 

" I 'ad a warning," he said, solemnly, in 
reply to the indignant seaman. " Larst night 
exactly as Big Ben struck ten o'clock the 
gate-bell was pulled three times." 

" I've pulled it fifty times myself before 
now," said Joe, scathingly, "and then had to 
climb over the gate and wake you up." 

" I went to the gate at once," continued 
George, addressing himself to the cook ; 
"sometimes when I'm shifting a barge, or 
doing any little job o' that sort, I do 'ave to 
keep a man waiting, and, if he's drunk, two 
minutes seems like ages to 'im." 

" You ought to know wot it seems like," 
muttered Joe. 

" When I got to the gate an' opened it 
there was nobody there," continued the 
watchman, impressively, " and while I was 
standing there I saw the bell-pull go up an' 
down without 'ands and the bell rung ag'in 
three times." 

The cook shivered. "Wasn't you frightened, 
George ? " he asked, sympathetically. 

" I knew it was a warning," continued the 
veracious George. " W'y 'e should come to 
me I don't know. One thing is I think 'e 
always 'ad a bit of a fancy for me." 

" He 'ad," said Joe ; " everybody wot sees 
you loves you, George. They can't help 

"And I 'ave 'ad them two ladies down 
ag'in asking for Mr. Robinson, and also 
for pore Cap'n Flower," said the watchman ; 

by K: 



■-1 1 1 1 ti 1 1 1 ■_' 






"they asked me some questions about 3 im, 
and I told 'em the lies wot you told me to 
tell 'era, Joe; pVaps that's w'y I 'ad the 

Joe turned away with a growl and went 
below, and Tim and the cook, after greedily 
waiting for some time to give the watchman's 
imagination a further chance, followed his 
example. George, left to himself, took his 
old seat on the post at the end of the jetty, 
being, if the truth must be told, somewhat 
alarmed by his own fertile inventions. 

Three times did the mate, in response to 
the frenzied commands of the skipper, come 
stealthily up the companion-way and look at 
him. Time was passing, and action of some 
kind was imperative. 

"George, 1 * he whispered, suddenly, 

" Sir," said the watchman. 

"I want to speak to you," said Fraser, 
mysteriously; "come down here." 

George rose carefully from his seat, and, 

lowering himself gingerly on board, 
crept on tiptoe to the galley after the 

"Wait in here till I come back,' 1 
said the latter, in a thrilling whisper; 
"IVe got something to show you. 
Don't move, whatever happens." 

His tones were so fearful, and he 
put so much emphasis on the last 
sentence, that the watchman burst 
hurriedly out of the galley again, 

"1 don't like these mysteries," he 
said, plainly. 

"There's no mystery," said the 
mate, pushing him back ; "something 
I don*t want the crew to see, that's 
ill. You're the only man I can trust." 
He closed the door and coughed, 
and a figure, which had been lurking 
on the companion-ladder, slipped 
hastily on deck and clambered noise- 
lessly on to the jetty. The mate 
clambered up beside it, and hurrying 
with it to the gate helped it over, 
and with much satisfaction heard it 
alight on the other side* 

"Good-night, Jack," said Flower, 
" Don't forget to look after Poppy." 

"Good - night," said the mate. 
" Write as soon as you're fixed." 

He walked back leisurely to the 
schooner and stood in some per- 
plexity, eyeing the galley which contained the 
devoted George- He stood for so long that 
his victim lost all patience, and, sliding back 
the door, peered out and discovered him, 
" Have you got it ? " he asked, softly, 
"No/' replied Fraser ; " there isn't any- 
thing. I was only making a fool of you, 
George* Good-night." He walked aft, and 
stood at the companion, watching the out- 
raged George as he came slowly out of the 
galley and stared about him. 

"Good-night, George,'* he repeated- 
The watchman made no reply to the 
greeting, but, breathing heavily, resumed his 
old seat on the post ; and, folding his arms 
across his panting bosom, looked down with 
majestic scorn upon the schooner and all its 
contents. Long after the satisfied mate had 
forgotten the incident in sleep, he sat there 
striving to digest the insult of which he had 
been the victim, and to consider a painful 
and fitting retribution. 

(To he continued.) 

by Google 

Original from 

From Behind the Speaker s Chair. 





SEVEN years ago this month 

Mr. Gladstone formed his fourth 

„ and last Administration. Looking 

down the catalogue, it is startling 

to find how few then mustered are in the line 

of battle to-day, Mr. Gladstone is dead, 

so are his Lord Chancellor, Lord Herschell ; 

his President of the 

Board of Trade, Mr, 

Mundella ; his Second 

Whip, Mr, Ellis ; and 

his Master of Horse, 

Lord Oxenbridge, Of 

the rest, his Secretary 

of State for Foreign 

Affairs, I^ord Rose- 

bery, has retired from 

official connection with 

the Party, So have 

his Chancellor of the 

Exchequer, Sir William 

Harcourt, and his Chief 

Secretary for Ireland, 

Mr, Moiley. 11 is 

Secretary for Scotland, 

Sir George Trevelyan, 

has gone back to his 

first love, Literature. His Vice-President 

of the Council, Mr, Acland, has retired owing 

to ill-health. His Postmaster-General, Mr. 

Arnold Morley, has long been out of Parlia- 
ment; whilst his First Commissioner of Works, 

Mr. Shaw-Lefevre ; his Financial Secretary to 

the Treasury, Mr. Hibbert; his Parliamentary 

Secretary for India, Mr. 

George Russell ; his Vice- 
Chamberlain, Mr. "Bobbie" 

Spencer; and his Controller 

of the Household, Mr, 

Leveson - Cower, are also 

shelved owing to lack of 

appreciation on the part of 

the constituencies. 

His President of the Board 

of Agriculture, Mr. Herbert 

Gardner, is sunk in the 

obscurity of the House of 

Lords, where he has been 

joined by the Chief Whip 

of the new Parliament of 

1892, Mr, Marjori banks. His 

Digitized by Google 




Under-Secretary for War, Lord Sandhurst, 
is Governor of Bombay. His Attorney- 
General, Sir Charles Russell, is Lord Chief 
Justice of England, His Solicitor-General, 
Mr. Rigby, is also wrapped in the dif lity 
of the ermine. His Lord Chancellor of 
Ireland, Mr, Walker, is Lord Justice of 
Appeal All this in seven short years. 

The game which used 
to be played round the 
seat of Mr. Gibson 
Bowles hat! its serious 
effect in drawing from 
the Speaker judg- 
ment on a nice 
question. The mem- 
ber for Kings Lynn, 
with characteristic 
discernment, early 
in his Parliamentary 
career secured the 
corner seat on the 
bench immediately 
behind that on which 
Ministers sit. It has 
many advantages, 
being central, easy of 
access, and conveniently contiguous to Her 
Majesty's Ministers, who are able to benefit 
by prompt communication of any counsels 
that may occur to Mr. Bowles at crises of 

The coign of vantage was, to begin with, 
secured in the ordinary fashion by early 
arrival and attendance at 
prayers. After a while 
Mr, Bowles grew slack 
in these observances. In 
other cases where eminent 
men have appropriated 
particular scats it is the 
custom to regard them as 
sacred. Mr, Courtney, 
for example, has a 
corner seat below the gang- 
way, and if by chance he 
were absent from prayers, 
and so lose his legal 
claim to the place, he 
would doubtless on arriving 
reserved for him. It is 

w - -find, it r 





one of the penalties of greatness that it 
excites jealousy. Envious eyes were cast 
upon Mr. Bowles's seat. One day, arriving 
at question time, he was pained and shocked 
to find Mr. Gedge installed in his place, 
holding it by the invulnerable right of a 
ticket with his name on it stuck in the 
receptacle at the back. 




Mr, Gedge, when he is not look- 
ing after the bishops, or keeping 
the Prime Minister straight on 
constitutional points, is the 
guardian of ancient customs pertaining to 
the appropriation of seats on the floor of 
the House, His detection of the manoeuvre 
whereby the comer seat and the one next to 
it on the Front Bench below the gangway on 
the Opposition side were invariably secured 
by Mr. Labouchere and Sir Charles Dilke is 
a matter of history. Long 
suspecting unlawful pro- 
cedure, and failing to detect 
the criminal from his accus- 
tomed seat above the gang- 
way, Mr. (ledge one day, 
with something more than 
usual of his air of inno- 
strolled across the 






gangway, and during prayer 
time bowed his head in 
reverential attitude imme- 
diately opposite the right 
hon. but unsuspecting 
baronet who represents the 
Forest of Dean. 

To the casual observer, 
Mr. Gedge J s vision of 
earthly things was abso- 
lutely obstructed by his 

Digitized by Google 


hands laid open upon his face. Actually 
he was peeping between his parted fingers, 
and distinctly saw Sir Charles Dilke slip a card 
into the receptacle at the back of the corner 
seat Divine service over, and the congrega- 
tion dispersed, Mr, Gedge, crossing the aisle, 
read the name of Mr, labouchere on the 
card he had seen manipulated by Sir Charles 

The murder was out He, a constant 
worshipper, had never seen Mr. I^abouchere 
on his knees. Unless he w T ere present at 
prayers he could not secure this particular 
seat. Yet night after night he held it, and 
this was how it was done ! 

l.ater in the day Mr. Gedge unmasked the 
conspirators, and the Speaker, trying to look 
grave, administered rebuke. But to this day 
Mr. I^abouchere regularly secures the corner 
seat below the gangway, and the Chaplain 
does not recollect being supported with his 
presence during prayers. 

Mr, Gedge's incursion on Mr. 
Bowles's territory led to a suc- 
cession of scenes, watched with 
boyish delight by the House. 
On the day after the first incur- 
sion, Mr. Bowles came down in good time 
for prayers, resolved that nothing in the way 
of regularity should be lacking. Marching up 
to his place to deposit his hat, a preliminary 
process to obtaining the ticket that completes 
a claim, he found a hat already in possessions 
Robinson Crusoe coming on a man's foot- 
step in what he had regarded as a desert 
island was not more startled, From a certain 
indefinable air of truculence combined with 
implacable respectability, he recognised the 
headgear as Mr. Gedge's. 

Mr. Bowles is not easily 
beaten, The next day he 
went down before luncheon, 
marked the seat as his own 
by placing his hat on it, 
and enjoyed full possession 
throughout the evening sit- 
ting. Then followed a series 
of marching and counter- 
marching, accompanied by 
varied results. The member 
for Walsall had the ad vantage 
of living close by, and being 
an early riser, Mr. Bowles, 
reaching the House as early 
as six o'clock in the morning, 
elate with the certainty of 
triumph, was confronted 
with the silent sardonic 

regard of Mr, Gedge's hat. 
Origin arTrom 


1 66 


It was at this stage of the campaign the 
Speaker's attention was called to the matter. 
He was asked to give a ruling on the point 
whether it is lawful for a member, having 
pegged out a claim to a particular seat by 
depositing his hat, straightway to depart 
about his business in the City or at the West- 
end, a strategy made possible by the posses- 
sion of a second hat. The Speaker, having 
taken thought and consulted the authorities, 
gave judgment in the negative. A member, 
he said, having claimed a seat in the usual 
manner, must remain within the precincts of 
the House till his right be fully established 
by possession of the ticket. 

Twenty-one years ago the com- 
mr. dill- petition for seats led to a striking 

wyn's scene. Mr. Dillwyn, long time 
seat. member for Swansea, was the 
regular occupant of the corner 
seat below the gangway, now filled by Mr. 
I^abouchere. He held it undisturbed till 
Mr. Roebuck was returned for Sheffield at 
a by-election. The old gentleman, presum- 
ing on his years and fame, coming down to 
the House at whatever hour suited his con- 
venience, dislodged Mr. Dillwyn. 

This genial custom was suffered for some 
time. But the worm will turn at last, and 
one day Mr. Dillwyn did. The situation is 
described in the following letter here pub- 
lished for the first time. I take it from a 
copy in the neat handwriting of Mr. Dillwyn 
which he gave me at the time. It bears 
date House of Commons, May 23rd, 1878, 
and commences : — 

"My Dear Mr. Roebuck, — Some time 
ago I mentioned to you that, although I wished 
to accommodate you by giving up to you the 
seat which I usually occupy in the House 
when you come here, I would ask you to let 
me know when you intended to come, as 
otherwise I am left without a place, and as I 
take rather an active part in the business of 
the House, this often occasions me consider- 
able inconvenience. I understood you to 
assent to the reasonableness of this request, 
and upon one occasion you did so inform 
me. Of late, however, you have not done 
so, and, consequently, I have several times 
during recent debates been without a place, 
although I had secured my usual one, as I 
did not like to prevent you from occupying 
it. Under these circumstances I hope you 
will excuse me if I consider the arrangement 
at an end, and that I shall decline to give 
you up my usual seat should I have secured 
it. I may say that several members who 
sit on the Opposition side of the House 

do not like to hear speeches directed 
against the Opposition, and in praise of the 
Government, such as you almost invariably 
make, emanating from their own side of the 
House, and they are surprised that you 
should like to make them from that side and 
that I should make way for you on it. Very 
many representations to this effect have been 
made to me since your speech this evening, 
and I cannot say that I am surprised at it. 
Wishing to act with courtesy with you, I 
think it right to inform you before you come 
next to the House that I shall in future 
decline to vacate for you any place which I 
may have secured. — Believe me, 
"Yours truly, 

" L. L. Dillwyn." 

Before a week had sped after the dispatch 
of this letter crisis came. During question 
time, when the House was densely crowded, 
Mr. Roebuck entered, dragging his leaden 
footsteps in the direction of the corner seat. 
His habit was to stand there till Mr. Dillwyn 
either rose and left or moved lower down the 
bench. Now, as he stood and waited, Mr. 
Dillwyn steadily stared at the Treasury Bench, 
ignoring his presence. Not a word passed. 
The House paused, watching the scene. 
Finding the member for Swansea immovable, 
Mr. Roebuck crossed over to the Conserva- 
tive side, half-a-dozen members, amid wild 
cheering, springing up to give him a seat 
within the Government fold. 

Sir William Hart-Dyke is at least 

an odd free from the charge of intentional 
fish. humour. He trotted his bull out 
caparisoned in almost funereal 
trappings. Debate sprang up upon a motion, 
made by Mr. James Lowther, charging the 
Lord Chancellor with breach of privilege, 
inasmuch as he had presided at a meeting 
summoned to select a Unionist candidate to 
represent Oxford University in place of the 
ever - lamented Sir John Mowbray. Sir 
William argued that such conduct on the 
part of a peer became actionable only if the 
interference took place after a writ had been 
issued. At the same time he was willing to 
concede to Mr. Lowther that he had for his 
purposes been fortunate in finding an offender 
in a person so highly placed as the Lord 

" I admit," he said, "that the right honour- 
able gentleman has undoubtedly gone up to 
the top of the tree and caught a very big fish." 
I remember, during the debates 
stock on foreign policy in the days of 
bulls, the Jingo excitement that bubbled 
round Lord Beaconsfield, hear- 

_- 1 1 >_i 1 1 1 >.i 1 1 1 ■_■ 1 1 1 




THE T0F OP A T6RB. 1 ' 

ing Mr. Alderman Cotton exclaim, "And 
this, Mr. Speaker, may be the one spark that 
will let slip the dogs of war ! n 

Mr, Shaw, during the time he was Leader 
of the Home Rule Party, was called upon to 
defend himself for having desecrated the 
Sabbath by appearing at a public meeting in 
Cork to discuss the Land Question. "If," 
he said, accepting the challenge, " an ox or 
an ass fall into the pit on the Sabbath day, 
we have the highest authority for the effort to 
take him out, Our brother is in the pit 
to-day, the farmer and the landlord are both 
in it, and I was at Cork last Sunday engaged 
in the effort to try to lift them out." Which 
was the ox and which the ass was information 
Mr, Shaw withheld from a laughing House, 

It was Mr. O'Connor Power, one of the 
most finished speakers Ireland sent to the 
House of Commons in Mr. Parnell's time, 
who shrewdly remarked ; u Since the Govern- 
ment has let the cat out of the bag there is 
nothing to be done but to take the bull by 
the horns." 

A striking success on somewhat 
different lines was obtained this 
Session by Mr. Kilbride, It was 
during the discussion on the 
second reading of the Food and Drugs Bill. 
Question arose as to how far the use of 
margarine might be safely encouraged, Mr, 
Kilbride startled the House, and after a 
moment's consideration sent it into a fit of 
uncontrollable laughter, by announcing that 

a new 


by LiOOgle 

margarine is " chiefly used for cooking 

That is how the humble familiar word 
11 purposes " sounds when enunciated in fine 
rotund Gal way accent 

Only Scotland could equal that. To the 
Parliament of 1874 was returned a gentleman 
named Smollett, who, though of Scotch blood 
and residence, represented Cambridge. He 
was, as he made a point of reminding the 
public in the pages of Dod and elsewhere, 
"the great -grand nephew of the celebrated 
historian and novelist." Not gifted in either 
direction himself, Mr. Smollett endeavoured 
to keep his great-uncle's memory green by 
introducing into the House of Commons 
something of the manner of a surgeon's mate 
of the last century. He distinguished him- 
self in the early days of the first Session of 
Parliament by a coarse attack on Mr. Glad- 
stone, whom he accused in the matter of the 
recent dissolution of u concocting a pious 
fraud," of being "guilty of sharp practice 
more likely to have come from an attorney's 
office than from a Cabinet of English gentle- 

This brought Mr, Gladstone up in a tower- 
ing rage. He bestowed upon the new 
member a memorable castigation which, by 
the way, led to the birth of something of 
the bull pedigree. Amongst other genialities 
Mr* Smollett called Mr. Gladstone a 
"trickster." "Let the hon. member," the 
angry statesman thundered, "rise in his 
place and say whether he holds to the 
utterance of the word 'trickster/" 

Mr, Gladstone paused. All eyes were 
turned to Mr. Smollett seated above the 
gangway behind Ministers. After a moment's 
hesitation, he jumped up and hotly said : " I 
shall not rise again from my seat," 

It was on a later occasion Mr. 
' ' ' „ Smollett forestalled Mr, Kilbride 

PARL1AMEN-, ..- - _, „ . ■■ 

TARVWORD by m y Stlf > +in S the H ° USe Wlth 

broad pronunciation of an inno- 
cent word. It happened in debate on an 
Indian topic, through which Mr + Smollett 
strode, whacking his flail on both sides. In 
the course of his boisterous harangue, Sir 
George Balfour, sitting in his accustomed 
place above the gangway, ventured to inter- 
polate a meek but critical " Hear ! hear ! " 
Smollett turned upon him with the ferocity 
of a tiger disturbed in its native jungle. 
" The hon. member cheers," he said, " and I 

will admit to the fool " 

The few members present stared at each 
other in indignant surprise. The Speaker 
half rose from the Chair : in his present 






mood Smollett might be expected to say 
anything. But publicly to allude to poor old 
Sir George Balfour as a fool seemed going 
a little too far 

Smollett, not observing the consternation 
he had created, concluded his 
sentence : "I will admit to the 
fool all that has been said 
about these unjustifiable an- 
nexations. 1 ' 

Then the House discovered 
that misapprehension had 
arisen out of the Northerner's 
pronunciation of the innocent 
word " full." 

A friend old 
enough to have 
been in the House 
of Commons when 
Lord Palmerston 
was Prime Minister recalls a 
scene in which there was 
delivered a speech at once the 
shortest and, as far as my 
memory goes, the bitterest ever uttered. It 
was in the Session of 1862, and, as happened 
in those days, Lord Palmerston, seated on 
the Treasury Bench, had fallen fast asleep. 
A member speaking from a bench immedi- 
ately behind Ministers delivered a violent 
diatribe against the foreign policy of the 
Government He was, as nearly as the un- 
developed resources of the century permitted, 
something approaching the 
Ashmead - Bartlett type. It 
happened that, contrary to his 
custom, he had said something 
that needed answering. A col- 
league rousing the Premier 
hastily whispered in his ear, 

Palmerston, with the in- 
stincts of an old war-horse, 
instantly rose to join in 
the fray. In his half-dazed 
state he had evidently mis- 
understood the source of the 
attack, "In reply to the right 
honourable gentleman 
opposite," he said, concluding 
assault had come from the 
usual quarter. 

His colleague hastily whis- 
pered correction, but was again 

"The hon, member below the gangway," 
said Palmerston, turning in that direction, 
"has thought fit to attribute to Her Majesty's 
Ministers ,J 


with audible inquiry, " Eh ? What ? What ? ,J 
This time he mastered the name of the 
assailant of his policy, He turned round, 
looked his hon. friend full in the face, and 
bent towards his colleague, saying, "Oh, 
it was only you, was it?' 1 and 
then resumed his seat, 

We manage things differently 
now. The Under-Secretary for 
Foreign Affairs is hedged about 
with a ring fence of prohibition 
to reply to inconsiderate 
questions from inconsiderable 
members. Palm erst oil's pro- 
cedure was equally effective 
and more dramatic. But it 
needs a Palmerston to carry 
it off. 

Does anyone 

a read Kinglake's 

prophecy. "Eothen" now? 

Temptation is pro- 

a little volume, 

printed and neatly ' 





Once more his coat-tails were pulled, and said had 

Digitized by GoOglC 

vided by 


bound, recently issued at a small price by 

Messrs, Newnes, Looking over it I find a 

remarkable forecast of the present state of 

things in Egypt. In the shortest chapter of 

the book, containing an eloquent apostrophe 

of the Sphinx, Kinglake writes: "And we, 

we shall die, and Islam will wither away; 

and the Englishman, leaning far over to hold 

his loved India* will plant a firm foot on the 

banks of the Nile, and sit in the 

seals of the Faithful, and still 

that sleepless rock will be 

watching, and watching, the 

works of the new, busy race 

with those same sad, earnest 

eyes, and the same tranquil 

mien everlastingly." 

11 Eothen " was published in 

18443 at which time Mehemet 

Pasha had^ of his strength, 

forced the Sultan to concede to 

him the position of hereditary 

Viceroy, England had not at 

the time the slightest foothold 

in the country, nor was there 

anything visibly working in that 

direction. But Kinglake had 

a clear vision of the far-off 

future f and fitly framed it in 

this glowing passage. 

I read in the newspapers how, 

preaching in the Abbey on a 

Sunday afternoon, " Canon Gore 

told a striking story, which he 

come to his ears within the last 
Original from 




few days. A hardened professional pick- 
pocket found himself within sight of death, 
and for the first time in his life had leisure 
to think. During a somewhat protracted 
illness the reality of the love of God was 
vividly borne in upon him, and he became, 
in the deepest sense, converted from darkness 
to light. He had received the Sacrament, 
and was in artkulo mortis^ when the pries t t 
who was reading the commendatory prayer 
by his bedside, heard a hoarse whisper in his 
ear, ( Look out for your watch,' As the 
clergyman raised his head, the man lay dead 
with the watch in his hand. The will, said 
Canon Gore, was not strong enough to resist 
the habitual instinctive motions of the body, 
yet was strong enough to protest against its 
own act with the voice/' 

I know that story. It comes from The 
Strand Magazine, and has journeyed many 
times round the world since, '* within the last 
few days," it struck the Canon's ear. I am 
subdued by paternal regret on observing how 
sadly its points have been rubbed off in the 
journey* "The priest' 1 was the late Mr. 
Henry White, and it was during his chap- 
laincy of the House of Commons that the 
grim incident occurred, I^ite one winter 
night a messenger came to his door and 
besought his attendance at the bedside of a 
sick man. He obeyed the summons, and 
was led to a house in a squalid neighbour- 
hood by Waterloo Bridge* Entering a room 
lit by a tallow candle, he. 
found a man of wasted frame 
and haggard features lying 
on a truckle-bed. 

Curious to know why he* 
living some distance off, 
should be sent for, he ques- 
tioned th? sick man, who 
told him that he once drop- 
ped in at St Margaret's 
Church, where Mr. White 
was preach ing* The subject 
chanced to be the repentance 
and salvation of the thief on 
the Cross. The dying man 
admitted that he had been a 





thief from his boyhood, had spent a consider- 
able portion of his still young life in prison. 
But he was so much touched by the sermon 
that he had abjured his evil courses, had 
striven to lead an honest life, had mostly 
starved, and, feeling he was dying, there came 
upon him a strong desire to hear again the 
voice that once so strangely uplifted him* 

Mr, White, much affected, prayed by tjie 
bedside, then sat and talked with the man. 
As he grew weaker he leaned over and 
whispered consoling words. Rising as he 
heard the death-rattle, he found himself 
grasped by the watch-chain, his watch in the 
closed hand of the penitent thief. 

The ruling passion, literally, strong in death, 
propinquity had been irresistible. 

In a recent number I quoted 
the following verse, with the 
explanation that I found it 
among some old papers and was 
not able to identify the hand- 
writing or the author :-- 

The lu-ml of the Army ami Chief of Lhe Fleet 
Went niu on a visit to Cyprus and Crete* 
The natives received them with joyful hurrahs, 
Called one of them Neptune, the other one ^lars. 
They ran up a.n altar to Stanley forthwith. 
And ran up a liookstall to W, JL Smith. 

A reader of The Strand Magazine in 
far-off Rio de Janeiro writes : " The poetry 
is without doubt twin-brother to the verse 
which appears in Ckiptrr XII. of the new 
edition of Maxwell's l Life of W. H. 
Smith.' It is there attributed 
to Mr Bromley-Davenport, 
Sir Herbert Maxwell con- 
U/j firms this reference, but 

admits that he was in error. 
The author of theyVv/ d y esprit 
is Sir Wilfrid Lawson, to 
whom the House of Com- 
mons is indebted for many 
similar flashes of good- 
humoured badinage. Sir 
Herbert tells me he found 
opportunity to correct the 
error in the pages of Notts 
and Queries. 



weftuse: the latk w. h. smith* 

Vol* nviii.— 22» 

by Google 

Original from 

Saved by a Train Wrecker. 

By Victor L. Whitechurch. 

<£j§ **— 


THINK you had better 
attempt no explanation, Mr. 
Halbon," the senior partner 
was saying to me, very 
quietly. M No," he went on, 
as I was on the point of 
interrupting him, "either to excuse or to in- 
criminate yourself. For the sake of your 
father, who was one of the staunchest and 
best servants the firm ever possessed, and for 
the sake of his widow, Mr, Sampson and 
myself have determined to make his son 
every allowance. As the matter stands there 
is a balance of ninety-seven pounds un- 
accounted for, and you are the only person 


who can make it right If the amount is- 
ahem ! —replaced by this day fortnight, nothing 

more will be said, But if not " " Then," 

went on Mr. Sampson, the junior partner, 
u the firm will require your services no 
longer, Mr. Halbon. Possibly, for the sake of 
those whom Mr, Marsh has mentioned, we shall 
not take any more stringent measures ; but, 
of course, such a dismissal, without reason 
or references, would be ruin to you. We 
trust, therefore, that you will be able to 
rectify the mistake. Good afternoon." 

Ruin ! That was just the word for it all, 
and it rang in my ears with terrible signi- 
ficance as I left the presence of the two 
partners and took my seat at a desk in the 
office outside. For although they had not 
named the word, the terrible charge that was 
staring me in the face was embezzlement. 
They had discovered it all Fool that I had 
been ; alas, the duplicate of many, Not 
half-a-dozen years out of my teens, with a 
berth that many an older man might have 
envied, the under - cashier in the wealthy 

firm of Marsh and 
Sampson, of Silk- 
minster, one of the 
largest houses in 
the Midlands, a 
business in which 
my father had seen 
fifty years' service, 
with a good and 
increasing salary, 
and a certain pros- 
pect of advance- 
ment and retiring 
pension, that was 
the position from 
which I, Frank 
Halbon, had now 
every chance of 
falling. It was the 
old story — tipsters' 
turfy associates, a 
bulky betting- 
book, bad starters 
and worse losers, 
debts of honour, 
and threatened 
exposure, and with 
it all the constant 
handling of cash. And so the temptation 
came. Like many another, I simply "bor- 
rowed it"— nothing more, But before I 
had time to pay it back the hideous trans- 
action stood revealed, and I knew that my 
employers regarded me as a thief. And 
yet they were giving me one chance: just 
one chance for honour for everything that 
makes life worth living — a breathing spell of 
a fortnight. 

Could I do it? rfeiftedrmyself the question 
fhttnjjAMfl^^ I 



had been invited out to spend the evening at 
the house of my fiancee. Alas, I dared not 
face her now. So I sat alone in an agony of 
anxious thought. Time after time I counted 
out my resources. The utmost I could 
scrape together was twenty-four shillings, and, 
look where I would, I could not see my way 
to laying my hand on more. 

The game was up ; that was evident And 
out of the situation there grew the desire, 
stronger and stronger, to 
get away, anywhere from 
Silkminster — to London, 
perhaps — London, whither 
every fortune - hunter or 
fortune-loser turns his steps, 
At length a definite plan 
took possession of me, I 
had one article of value 
left, my bicycle, and 1 
determined to ride it up to 
London, a distance of a 
hundred odd miles or so, 
and sell it when I got there. 
More than that, I made up 
my mind to start that very 
night. I was just in the 
mood for it. I wanted to 
do something, and here was 
the chance. 

Hastily I packed a few 
bicycle "hold-all," filled my lamp, knocked 
at my landlady's door, and said ; if I am going 
for a long ride T Mrs, Smith — to see a friend. 
He'll be almost sure to ask me to stay the 
night, so don't expect me till to-morrow 

"Lor 1 , sir," said Mrs. Smith, ** you're going 
rather sudden, ain't you ? " 

I had been with her for some years, and 
she was quite devoted to me, I felt the 
parting — the first wrench from the world of 
my friends. 

" Yes," I said, hastily, " I have made up 
my mind rather quickly. Good night, Mrs, 

And in another minute I was bowling 
through the suburbs of Silkminster, until the 
houses became more and more scattered, the 
lamp-posts began to disappear, and at length 
I was out in the open country speeding away 
on the road that led to London. 

It must have been after half-past eight 
when I started- It was a dark night, but I 
knew this part of the road pretty well, and 
was putting in a good ten miles an hour. 
Just before eleven o'clock I pulled up for a few 
minutes in the little town of I >ullminster, and 
refreshed myself with a pint of ale at an inn. 

u Don't ye want a bed for the night ? " 
asked the landlord, seeing my dusty con- 

" Oh, I think I'll get on a bit farther," I 

u A bit farther? Which way are ye ridin', 
young man ? " 

''Towards London." 

" Lunnon, eh ? Well, there ain't a decent 
place till ye get to Egghurst, and that's a 


"^Y* 14 ** 


good fourteen miles further, through a lone- 
some bit o' country, too. And it's a chance 
but what yell get none there so late. Better 
stop, sir 1 n 

But he urged ir\e in vain. Foolish as I 
knew it was to go on, the demon of unrest 
held unbounded possession of me, and I 
determined to ride till I could go no farther — 
it was the only thing that took me at all 
out of myself* So, once more mounting my 
machine, I was soon pedalling along through 
the lonely darkness, 

Hullminster was now a good five miles 
behind me, and I had entered upon a stretch 
of road that was more than usually dreary and 
secluded* On my right was an open expanse 
of common, and on my left, on the top 
of an embankment, the main line of the Great 

w nWf?ft?5PrrW^HR3.N for some two 



or three miles parallel with the road, 
a hedge between me and the bottom 
of the embankment The momentary flash 
of a warning red light on a signal-post as I 
began riding by the side of this embankment 
set my mind flowing in a new channel. The 
whole country had recently been aroused to 
the sense of a terrible danger. The most 
cold-blooded and dastardly attempts were 
being made on certain of our great trunk 
railways to wreck express trains. Some uf 
these attempts were successful, and more 
than one accident was the result ; some were 
discovered only just in time to prevent an 
appalling disaster ; while others fortunately 
proved powerless to upset the magnificent 
engines and trains for which they were 

In spite of every precaution, in spite of 
systems of patrolling the line and the work 
of scores of detectives, the miscreant or 
miscreants who plied this abominable trade 
remained undetected. 

Engine-drivers, one of the pluckiest class 
of men in the kingdom, grew nervous and 
distrustful. The foot-plate became a 
post that meant a terrible and sudden 
danger. Strong men clutched trem- 
blingly at the regulator handle as they 
dashed away through the open country 
in the darkness of the night, and heaved 
a sigh of relief as they signed " off duty " 
at the journey's end, Many a man 
actually refused promotion point-blank 
because he feared to drive a night express. 
The matter was, in short, becoming 
serious, and more than one railway 
company offered a very large reward for 
the discovery and arrest of the train- 
wrecking fiend. All this flashed across 
me as I plodded along, slowly now, for 
I was riding on rising ground, and my 
legs were beginning to give out a bit. I 
had ridden over thirty miles with only a 
few minutes' stop, and the nervous and 
physical strain was telling on me a little. 

Suddenly, as I was riding thus slowly 
I happened to glance upward at the rail- 
way embankment, and started violently 
at what I saw. There, outlined against 
the dim sky, was the figure of a man, 
now standing, now stooping downward, 
seemingly doing something to the metals. 
The situation flashed across me in a 
moment. It was the train-wrecking 
fiend at work ! Carefully 1 alighted from 
my machine, making up my mind the 
while how to act. The whole thing came 
as a flood of relief to me. If he were 

really placing something on the line he was a 
desperate fellow, and to attack him would be 
desperate — just the very thing for a man in 
my mood. And then there came across me 
another thought. The Great West-Northern 
had offered a hundred pounds' reward. What 
if I should win it ? If so, I was saved ! 

This idea gave me courage as I clambered 
over the low hedge and crawled stealthily up 
the embankment At length my head came 
on a level with the top. Good ! He had 
seen and heard nothing. There he was 
stooping down with his back towards me, 
lashing something with a rope to the down 
metals. Ten yards separated us. Setting 
my teeth, I prepared for the attack. 

With a spring I was upon him ; but too 
late. He had heard me as soon as I left 
the grassy slope and my feet sounded upon 
the ballast, and in a moment he was on his 
legs and facing me. 

I managed to get in one good blow under 
his guard with my left hand, which caught 
him square on the jaw, and with my right 
hand I seized him by the collar. 

Original from 




11 Curse you , let go ! " he cried. 

"Not I," I shouted back. 

" Then take that," he replied, 

There was a glitter of steel as he raised his 
right hand aloft and struck at my breast 
But I was too quick for him. Half-turning 
the blow aside* I caught it on the left fore- 
arm. I felt the knife slip up under my 
sleeve, and the sharp point as it entered my 
flesh. That only gave me redoubled fury. 
Releasing my grip on his collar, I gave his 
right elbow an upward blow, that sent the 
knife spinning away out of his hand right 
down the embankment, and the next instant 
I had dodged to the left, made a feint of 
rushing past him, and had tripped him up 
with a heavy back-throw with my right arm 
and leg -a dodge which I had picked up 
during a holiday in Cornwall. He fell, with 
an oath, striking the back of his head against 
the rail, and lay there, stunned, like a log. 
The battle was mine ! 

But there was more to be done and no 
time to he lost. I had to remove the 
obstructions from the metals and to secure 
my prisoner. I wanted light on the scene. 
Hastily I dashed down the 
embankment, took off my bicycle 
lamp, and hurried back again. 
Then I saw the extent of his 

He had managed to get three 
old sleepers, which were probably 
lying by the side of the track 
awaiting removal. Two of these 
he had lashed firmly across the 
metals, with a space of about a 
couple of feet between. The 
third he had been in the act of 
securing between them, pointing 
at an angle towards the train, so 
that it would catch under the 
bed-plate of the engine and wreck 
the works. The third sleeper I 
removed. Then 1 took the piece 
of rope he had been about to 
use, and tied the wretch's arms 
behind him, lashing his feet 
together also. Having disposed 
of him, I was turning my atten- 
tion to the other two sleepers* 
when an ominous roar in the 
distance, in the direction of 
London, startled me, A train 
was mining ! With a yell of despair, I set 
to work at those ropes. It was no use, I 
could not undo them in time. I felt in 
my pockets no ! I had left my knife at 
home. Ah, there was the train -wrecker's 

weapon ! Where was it ? Alas ! it would 
have taken me too much time to find 
it in the long grass of the embankment. 
With horror, I glanced ahead. There, in the 
distance, were two gleaming lights of the 
approaching train. How could I stop it ? 

As I asked myself this question I felt 
something warm trickling from my left arm, 
I turned my lantern on it* Blood — dripping 
red blood from the knife-wound, which I had 

Ah ! An inspiration. And with a prayer 
that it might not be too late, I proceeded to 
put it into execution. Drawing out my 
handkerchief I quickly applied it to my arm. 
In three or four seconds it was saturated 
with blood. 

I glanced ahead again. Oh, those lights ! 
They were only about hair a mile from me 

Hastily I folded the dripping handkerchief 
twice or thrice, and stretched it across the 
face of my bicycle lamp. 

Eureka ! I held in my hand a red light ! 

Stumbling, running, leaping, I rushed 
towards the train, waving my extemporized 





danger-signal frantically 
as I did so* The head- 
lights gleamed brighter 
and brighter, the roar 
became nearer and 
nearer, Would they never 
stop ? Ah ! A whistle, A 
shriek in the night as of a 
startled wild animal. And 
then a rasping and a grating 
of brake - blocks, a stream of flying 
sparks from the rails as the wheels dragged 
along them, a glare of light in my 
very face, and a hoarse voice from the 




"What's up, then? D'ye know you're 
stopping the Silkminster Express ? " 

"Thank God, I have !" I answered. And 
then for a few minutes all was black — the 
excitement and the loss of blood were too 
much for me. 

When I came to , — -— ■ —. „ — „ 

there was a crowd 
of passengers 
around me, and 
they gave me 
some stimulant, 

"Have they 
got him?" 1 

"Got him? 
Aye, we've got 
him," said the 
guard, "and we 
won't let him go 
in a hurry. You 
tied him up pretty 
tight. Lucky you 
stopped us, for 
we'd have been 
wrecked certain. 
But it's the rum- 
miest danger- 
signal I ever 
heard of, Now 
then," he added, 
il take your seats, 
please. The line's 
clear now. What 
can we do with 
you> sir ? " 

"111 go with 
you to Silkmin- 
ster," I said. 

" I live there. And I think you'll carry my 
bicycle without charging for it, eh?" 

They got my machine from the road, and 
I travelled in a first-class carriage back to 
Silkminster The kindly guard, who had a 
knowledge of ambulance work, had bound 
up my wound, which was a very slight one. 
One of my travelling companions, curiously 
enough, was a director of the line, and to 
him I told the story how I had captured the 
train- wrecker. He congratulated me heartily, 

and told me that the company would cer- 
tainly pay me the reward. 

" Excuse me," I said, " but may I ask for 
it at once — that is, within this fortnight? 
The truth is that the money is a god-send 

to me. It will 
me from 


And it did. A 
week afterwards 

I was able to 
walk into the 
partners' office 
with my books 
properly bal- 
anced. Mr, Marsh 
shook me by the 

"We will not 
ask," he said, 

II for any explana- 
tion of the mis- 
take or how it 
has been recti- 
fied. We only 
trust that our 
method of deal- 
ing with you will 
prevent such a 
mistake from 
ever occurring 
again, for in that 
case not even 
such a plucky 
action as that 
which you achie- 
ved last week — 
or the result of 
it- will save you. 

But now we trust the matter is at an end 
for ever." 

And so it was. 1 do not think the partners 
will have cause to complain of me again. 
And the day that I saw Joseph Berch, ex- 
servant of theGrcat West-Northern, discharged 
in disgrace, sentenced to seven years' penal 
servitude for attempting to wreck the express, 
I could not help inwardly thanking the 
wretch for saving me from ruin and given 
me back all 


by Google 

Original from 

Over the Alps in a Balloon, 

By Charles Herbert. 

N the June Number of The 
Strand Magazine a number 
of photographs of Switzerland, 
taken by the famous aeronaut, 
Captain Edward Speltermi, 
during his balloon trips, were 
given, and promise was then made that some 
of the captain's beautiful mountain photo- 
graphs would appear in an early number. 
We are now able to 
fulfil this promise, 
and to present to our 
readers a series of pic- 
tures which we have no 
hesitation in proclaim- 
ing absolutely unique. 

As everyone knows, 
the camera has been 
very successfully applied 
to the photography of 
mountain scenery, and 
the Alpine views of 
Sign or Vittoria Sella, 
Mr. Clinton T. Dent, 
and others are beau- 
tiful specimens of this 
branch of the art What 
gives to the photographs 
here reproduced their 
extraordinary charm 
and interest is the fact 
that they have been taken 
from a balloon, To take 
photographs from a balloon 
is, of course, in itself nothing 
new, but no one before 
Captain Spekerini conceived 
the idea of crossing the Alps 
in a balloon, and of utilizing 
a camera to depict the 
scenery through which it 
travels. On the difficulty of balloon photo- 
graphy we touched in the article to which 
reference has just been made, It will be 
enough, therefore, to say that to attain the 
best results great patience, ingenuity, re- 
source, and skill are required. 

The pictures in these pages could not have 
been obtained in any other way, for although 
striking photographs may be taken from the 
tops of high peaks, still, the effects are 

Prom u Photo, by Q. Ruf k BantL 

nothing compared to the grandeur and 
magnificence of photographs taken from a 
swiftly moving air-ship of the country below. 
Captain Spelterini's original intention was 
to go from Sion, in Canton Valais, to Lake 
Constance. In conjunction with many 
eminent savants, he had studied, for some 
time past, the direction of the principal wind- 
currents of Switzerland, It was discovered 
that the currents in the 
Central Alps flowed, as 
a rule, either from 
north-east to south-west, 
or west -south -west to 
east-north-easL As a 
matter of fact, instead 
of being carried north- 
east, Captain Spelterini 
and his companions 
were taken in a north- 
westerly direction. 

Starling from Sion, 
the "Vega" (so the 
balloon was named) 
went towards the lake 
of Geneva, then crossed 
the Jura, and was 
brought down at a 
place called Rivifere les 
Fosses, on the boun- 
daries of the Depart- 
ments of Haute-Marne and 
Cote d'Oj between Dijon 
and Langres* It may be as 
well now to describe the 
photographs taken on this 
trip which appear in these 

No. i is Sion h the capital 
of Canton Valais, whence the 
start was made. The old 
town, with its castles on isolated hills and its 
background of mountains, has a romantic 
appearance. On the height to the left of 
the photograph are the ruins of the episcopal 
castle of Tour bill on, erected in 1294, and 
burned down in 1788. On the lower hill to 
the right, on the site of a Roman fort, stands 
the old castle of Valeria, surrounded by 
towers and cth^r buildings, among which is 
the C^flchr^iip^^^fyalfere. 




This photograph of Sion was taken at a 
height of 900 mfctres at 10,53, just after the 
" Vega " had slowly been released from her 
moorings. " Wc rose/' said Captain Spelterini, 
** in bright sunshine towards a magnificent 
blue sky. Thousands of lusty throats below 
shouted their farewells to the fast-disappearing 

adventurers, We 
rose to 1,000 
metres and then 
to 2, 000 m&tres. 
A grand sight was 
presented to our 
wondering gaze, 
and so beautiful 
and inspiring was 
the picture that no 
one of the occu- 
pants of the c:ir 
could find words 
to adequately ex- 
press his feelings," 
No, 2 was taken 
at 1 1. 1 5 at a height 
of 3,000 metres, 
It shows the Valley 
of the Rhone, look- 
ing towards Sion. 
No. 3 was taken 
fourteen minutes 
later than the pre- 
ceding one, and 
the "Vega" had 
now ascended to a height of 4,100 metres, 

"The glorious Valley of the Rhone," writes 
Dr. Maurer, who accompanied Captain 
Spelterini, "extended far below us; the 
mountains rising on both sides were seen 
with beautiful clearness. Further south, half 
hidden by seas of wondrous clouds, we 






discerned the mountains of Savoy. The 
glorious expanse of the dark blue Lake of 
Geneva greeted us from below, but words are 
not to be found wherewith even the very 
faintest description can be given of the 
glorious panorama that unfolded itself before 
our awestruck eyes," 

In No, 3 the Rhone can just be seen 
winding its way between its watershed. 
No, 4 is a striking picture of mountains 
and clouds. It was taken at a height of 
4,300 mfetres at 11,42^. We are looking 
north-east over the valley known as Ormont- 
Dessus to the heights of the Bernese Ober- 
land. No, 5 was taken a few minutes later, 
and the cloud 
effects are quite 
different. In the 
foreground we 
have a great 
billowy mass 
completely ob- 
scuring the view, 
but in the dis- 
tance majestic 
peaks rear their 
heads. No. 6 
was taken at an 
altitude of 4,200 
metres while the 
"Vega" was 
almost directly 
over the rocky 
Creuxde Champ, 
the base of the 
Diablerets. The 

VoL xviiL-23. 

left. When No. 7 was taken the " Vega " had 
reached an altitude of 4,300 mfetres (over 
2^ miles): the photograph will give some 
idea of the magnificent sights which rewarded 
those who undertook the historic voyage we 
are now describing. The huge masses of 
snowy clouds certainly obscure the view 
beneath, but we get, nevertheless, a picture 
of sublime beauty. 

Still pursuing its course to the north-west 
the "Vega " comes again within sight of the 
Rhone Valley, From Sion the Rhone flows 
south till it reaches Martigny, where it turns 
sharply to the north and makes for the Lake 
of Geneva. In No, 8 the Rhone is visible 




i 7 8 



to the left of the photograph. The next 
two photographs (Nos, 9 and jo) were taken 
while the " Vega " was making its way 
towards the eastern end of the Lake of 
Geneva, at heights varying from 4,500 to 
5,000 metres, 

In No. 11 the river is seen running right 
across the middle of the photograph, which 
was taken while the * s Vega n was at a height 
of 5,300 metres. 

No. 12 shows us that the I,ake of Geneva 
has been reached, and Villeneuve, Veytaux, 
Montreux, and Clarens are visible. The 
time was eight minutes past twelve. On 
leaving the Lake of Geneva the "Vega" 
was carried almost 
in a straight line 
to the south-west 
end of the Lake 
of Neuchatel, 
when the balloon 
was almost over 
Moudon and at 
an altitude of 
5,200 metres. 

No. 13, taken at 
three minutes past 
one, shows us that 
the "Vega" has 
arrived at the 
Lake of Neu- 
chiteL The town 
at the extremity 
of the lake is 

The last photo- 
graph (No, 14) 
was taken one 

hour and twenty 
minutes later, 
when the "Vega" 
was at a height 
of 6,500 metres. 
The cloud effects 
here are of extra- 
ordinary beauty, 
and from the pic- 
ture some faint 
idea of the love- 
liness of the 
actual scene may 
be obtained. The 
voyagers were 
now over French 
soil, and right 
below the clouds 
in our illustration 
is the Valley of 
the Oignon. 
Captain Spelterini was interne wed after his 
ascent, and expressed himself as follows: — 

4 *The balloon at first ascended to a height 
of 2,500 metres. I sought a favourable wind- 
current, but I was taken to the north-west 
and driven over the Diablerets and the 
C 1 lacier of the Fleuron, at an altitude of 
4,500 mfetres. Then we mounted perpen- 
dicularly over the Rochers de Naye, and over 
Oron we sailed 6,300 m&tres high, the tem- 
perature being 2ideg. Centigrade below zero. 
We were then 2,100 mfetres higher than the 
summit of the Jungfrau. The view over the 
whole of Switzerland was of immense grandeur, 
Towards the west all was bright On the 

by Google 





east Rigi, Pilatus, 

and Saintes reared 

their heads above 

the seas of cloud. 

We suffered but 

little from the cold, 

scarcely shivered, in 

fact ; but we felt 

sleepy. For a long 

time the balloon 

hovered above the 

mountains to a 

height exceeding 

5,000 metres, arid 

travelled at about 

fifteen metres per 

second. When over 

Le Grey, near Be- 

sanron, the * Vega J 

again attained an 

altitude of 6,300 

metres, or 20,670ft, 

From that point we 

sought a landing-place, and the balloon 

eventually descended at 4.30 p.m. in a field 

between I Ingres and Dijon, in the Cote 

d'Or. A strong east wind was blowing, but 

after some dragging the anchor held fast, and 

we all landed in safety." 

The photographs of mountain scenery and 
of Swiss towns, taken by Captain Spelter! ni, 
are the finest of their kind in existence. The 
point of view from which they were taken, in 
order that they might be of the greatest use 


for cartography, geography, and geology, was 
carefully planned and thought out before 
the balloon started on its journey. 

During the voyage frequent observations 
were made simultaneously at the Swiss 
meteorological stations, and by various 
instruments (such as registering aneroid 
barometers and controlling quicksilver baro- 
meters) carried in the balloon itself. By 
this plan the differences of the direction 
and rapidity of the wind in the various high 

$„— THE RHONE! NEAR MASTlGNfripj g j p ^ | "f fQ pf| 





strata of air were obtained. Careful obser- 
vations were made from the air-ship as to 
the humidity, temperature, air-pressure, the 
radiation of solar heat, the colour pheno- 
mena of the atmosphere, the various strata 
of vapour, and the formation of clouds. 

Dr. Maurer, Director of the Meteorological 
Institute at Zurich, who accompanied Captain 
Spelterini on his journey, has been good 
enough to write for The Strand Magazine 

a little account of 
the voyage of the 
l * Vega n over the 
Alps, and some ex- 
tracts from this may 
here be given. Dr. 
Maurer remarks that 
for a journey such 
as this it was neces- 
sary to have the very 
latest balloon fittings 
and material, and 
that the purest hy- 
drogen gas had to 
be used* 

** A special com- 
missioner was 
appointed to decide 
upon the route to 
be taken and to fix 
upon the starting- 
point, and the advice 
of experts in meteo- 
rology, geology, 
geography, and photography was requisitioned. 
A special balloon of great size was constructed 
in the factory of George Besacjon, at Paris, 
for the purpose of the expedition. Great 
care was taken in its manufacture, and no 
fewer than 6,336 different pieces of silk were 
used. The dimensions were as follows : 
Diameter, 60ft 3m. ; contents, 115,414 
cubic feet ; weight of balloon, basket, and 
network, about 2,o2olb. ; carrying power, 



^Original from 



7,4001b. The 
* Vega' contained 
3*2 6 8 cubic 
metres of gas, 
was nearly 200ft. 
rn height, and 
two tons of bid- 
last were carried. 
The car con- 
tained a com- 
plete set of ob- 
servatory fittings 
wherewith to 
register and 
record perma- 
nently important 
observations on 
air-pressure, tem- 
perature, and 

M The direct- 
ing of the 'Vega* 
and the photo- it- 

graphic work 

were intrusted to Captain Spelterini. I 
myself (viz., Dr. Maurer) accompanied the 
expedition as special scientific observer of 
meteorological phenomena. Professor Heim, 
of Zurich, and Dr. Biedermann, of Warsaw, 
a former pupil of Professor Heim, made up 
the party. Captain Spelterim's original inten- 


tion was to start towards the latter end of 
September, as from former experiments it 
had been found that a suitable south-westerly 
wind blowing over the Alpine crest might 
then be expected 

" Sion was chosen as the place of ascent, 
because if the expected south-westerly wind 








were to fail it would at least be possible to pass 
over some of the other glacial stretches of 
Switzerland. Much sympathy and interest 
at home and abroad were shown in this 
remarkable expedition, the International 
Aeronautical Commission arranging for simul- 
taneous scientific ascents to take place at as 
many European centres as possible. Pas- 
senger balloons rose simultaneously from the 
Trappe Observatory, near Paris, and also 
from Munich, Vienna, Berlin, and St. Peters- 
burg. Balloons without passengers, but 
carrying recording instruments, were also 
sent from Sion and St. Petersburg, and were 
destined to reach specially high altitudes. 

I( The * Vega y was ready at Sion on the 
2nd of October, 1898, but only on Monday, 
October 3rd, at 8 a.m., did messages arrive 
from the Meteorological Institute and moun- 
tain stations on Pilatus and Saintes to the 
effect that the atmospheric prospects were 
considered favourable, Immediately Pro- 
fessor D. Hergesellj President of the Aero- 
nautical Commission, telegraphed to the 
various International stations throughout 
Europe that the other balloons were to be 
liberated on the stroke of 11 a.m. on the 
same day. 

" The weather on the day of the ascent was 
magnificent, and a great crowd assembled to 
see the 'Vega* start, for immense interest 

by V_iOOgle 

had been aroused in this daring attempt to 
cross the Alps, At 10,53 M, Surcouf, the 
Paris engineer who had superintended the 
filling of the balloon with hydrogen, gave 
the order to let go. Immediately it shot 
upwards in a straight line to a great height, 
while the crowd below gave us a right good 
send off. 

"The 'Vega' was seized by air-currents 
and driven in a north-westerly direction 
towards the Diablerets. The Matter horn 
and Monte Rosa bowed their snowy heads 
to us as we were whirled along, and through 
broken seas of clouds we obtained glimpses 
of nearly the whole of Northern Switzerland 
as far as Saintes, whilst Pilatus, Kigi, and 
other giants towered high above the sea of 
clouds. Far ahead of us lav the mountains of 
the Bernese Oberland, Jungfrau, Monch, and 
Firater-Aarhorn, partly hidden by clouds, yet 
recognisable. At 12.40 we had risen to 
nearly 6,000ft,, and the barometer registered 
1 ;deg. C. I began to feel weaker, little by 
little ; an almost overpowering desire for 
sleep possessed me, and I had to rouse myself 
with a will. My pulse increased rapidly, I 
seized the tube that led from the oxygen- 
cylinder, and inhaled the life-giving gas 
deep into my lungs. The headache and heart- 
thrilling ceased like magic, and I became 

myself once more* . , 

Original from 




" Looking round at my companions I saw 
that Professor Heim's beard was one mass of 
icicles and his usually fresh complexion was 
as yellow as wax, Captain Spelterini's com- 
plexion assumed a dark-brown hue ; his 
usually powerful voice sounded hollow arid 
toneless, not unlike a voice from another 
world. The silence was almost unbearable 
and painful in its intensity, A little after 
four o'clock we decided to descend, and it 
was only when the 'Vega J began to seek lower 
regions that I noticed how cold it must have 
been in sptte of the beautiful sunshine we 
had enjoyed. My fingers were numbed with 
the cold. VVt descended speedily, however, 
as the rapid falling of the barometer showed. 
Two bags of ballast were thrown overboard, 

My neighbour on the right and I grasped 
the ropes above our heads and lifted 
ourselves as best we could, whilst the cap- 
tain again pulled the valve-strings, and the 
gas escaped with a tremendous hiss, The 
car struck mother earth with considerable 
force, and the * Vega ' lifted itself once more 
and dragged us yet farther ; we experienced 
more bumps and then a tremendous pull, the 
anchor held fast, and we were safe, while the 
instruments escaped with but slight injuries. 

"We came down on French soil at Rivi&re 
les Fosses at 4.30. The direct north-westerly 
route of the 'Vega' measured 232 kilo- 
metres, and this distance was covered in 
5hrs. 42min, The average speed of the whole 
voyage was about r 1 '3 mfetres per second. 


covering both instruments and passengers 
with a fine layer of sand, as the 4 Vega' fell 
ever so much quicker than the fine sand 
which our ba^s contained. The earth seemed 
to fly towards us with amazing rapidity. 

" Captain Spelterini's sharp eye had quickly 
chosen an advantageous landing-place, and 
the anchor was thrown, I proceeded to 
pack up the various instruments, when Spel- 
terini cried out, 'Beware, we are bumping ! ■ 

The lowest temperature recorded (at an 
altitude of 6,400 mfctres) was 2ideg, below 

" Never before has a balloon been known 
to travel in a direct horizontal line for so 
long a distance, considering the great altitude 
of nearly 7,000 metres. Needless to add, 
the wonders of the journey will never be 
forgotten by those who had the good fortune 
to accomplish it, so long as they live." 

In our former article, entitled '* Switzeht.amd From a. Balloon," it was erjvyieciwLy &ru:td that the greafi-st height 
attained by Captain Spellerinl was ^gq met res * the. rpirep.-l^res. -^re j6,£t» .inilrps. 

Hilda Wade, 

By Grant Allen. 




HAVE a vast respect for my 
grandfather, He was a man 
of forethought He left me a 
modest little income of seven 
hundred a year, well invested. 
Now, seven hundred a year is 
not exactly wealth ; but it is an unobtrusive 
competence : it permits a bachelor to move 
about the world and choose at will his own 
profession. / chose medicine : but I was 
not wholly dependent upon it. So I 
honoured my grandfather's wise disposition 
of his worldly goods: though, oddly enough, 
my cousin Tom (to whom he left his watch 
and five hundred pounds) speaks most dis- 
respectfully of his character and intellect. 

Thanks to my grandfathers silken-sailed 
barque, therefore, when I found myself 
practically dismissed from Nathaniels, I was 
not thrown on my beam-ends, as most young 
men in my position would have been : I 
had time and opportunity for the favourite 
pastime of looking about me. Of course, 
had I chosen, I might have fought the case 
to the bitter end against Sebastian : he could 
not dismiss me — that lay with the committee. 
But I hardly cared to fight. In the first 
place, though I had found him out as a man, 
I still respected him as a great teacher : and 

in the second place (which is always more 
important), I wanted to find and follow Hilda. 
To be sure, Hilda, in that enigmatic letter 
of hers, had implored me not to seek her 
out : but I think you will admit there is one 
request which no man can grant to the girl 
he loves — and that is the request to keep 
away from her. If Hilda did not want me f I 
wanted Hilda : and being a man, I meant to 
find her. 

My chances of discovering her where- 
abouts, however, I had to confess to myself 
(when it came to the point) were extremely 
slender. She had vanished from my horizon, 
melted into space : my sole hint of a clue 
consisted in the fact that the letter she sent 
me had been posted at Basingstoke. Here 
then was my problem : given an envelope 
with the Basingstoke postmark, to find in 
what part of Europe, Asia> Africa, or America 
the writer of it might be discovered. It 
opened up a fine field for speculation. 

When I set out to face this broad puzzle, 
my first idea was: "I must ask Hilda." 
In all circumstances of difficulty I had 
grown accustomed to submitting my doubts 
and surmises to her acute intelligence ; and 
her instinct almost always supplied the right 
solution. But now Hilda was gone; it was 
Hilda herself I wished to 
track through the labyrinth 
of the world ; I could ex- 
pect no assistance in track- 
ing her from Hilda. 

"Let me think," I said 
to myself, over a reflective 



jy Google 

with feet poised on 
the fender. "How would 
Hilda herself have ap- 
proached this problem ? 
Imagine I'm Hilda, 1 must 
try to strike a trail by ap- 
plying her own methods 
- z to her own character. 
She would have at- 
tacked the question, no 
doubt w -here I eyed 
my pipe wisely — " from 
the psychological side : 
she would have asked 
herself" -I stroked my chin — "what 
such a temperament as hers was likely 
to ^jimder,- .such-and-such circum- 




stances. And she would have answered it 
aright. But then " — I puffed away once or 
twice—" she is Hilda." 

When I came to reconnoitre the matter in 
this light, I became at once aware how great 
a gulf separated the clumsy male intelligence 
from the immediate and almost unerring 
intuitions of a clever woman. I am con- 
sidered no fool : in my own profession, I 
may venture to say, I was Sebastian's favourite 
pupil. Yet, though I asked myself over and 
over again where Hilda would be likely to 
go — Canada, China, Australia — as the out- 
come of her character, in these given con- 
ditions, I got no answer. I stared at the fire 
and reflected. I smoked two successive 
pipes, and shook out the ashes. " Let me 
consider how Hilda's temperament would 
work," I said, looking sagacious. I said it 
several times— but there 1 stuck. I went 
no further. The solution would not come. 
I felt that in order to play Hilda's part it 
was necessary first to have Hilda's head- 
piece. Not every man can bend the bow of 

As I turned the problem over in my mind, 
however, one phrase at last came back to me 
—a phrase which Hilda herself had let fall 
when we were debating a very similar point 
about poor Hugo Le Geyt : " If I were in 
his place, what do you think I would do ? — 
why, hide myself at once in the greenest 
recesses of our Carnarvonshire mountains." 

She must have gone to Wales, then. I 

had her own authority for saying so 

And yet— Wales ? Wales ? I pulled myself 
up with a jerk : in that case, how did she 
come to be passing by Basingstoke ? 

Was the postmark a blind ? Had she hired 
someone to take the letter somewhere for her, 
on purpose to put me off on a false track ? 
I could hardly think so. Besides, the time 
was against it. I saw Hilda at Nathaniel's 
in the morning : the very same evening I 
received the envelope with the Basingstoke 

" If I were in his place " : yes, true ; but, 
now I come to think on it, were the positions 
really parallel ? Hilda was not flying for her 
life from justice : she was only endeavouring 
to escape Sebastian— and myself. The 
instances she had quoted of the mountaineer's 
curious homing instinct — the wild yearning 
he feels at moments of great straits to bury 
himself among the nooks of his native hills — 
were they not all instances of murderers 
pursued by the police ? It was abject terror 
that drove these men to their burrows. But 
Hilda was not a murderer : she was not 

Vol. xviii.— 24. 

Digitized by V^OOglC 

dogged by remorse, despair, or the myrmidons 
of the law : it was murder she was avoiding, 
not the punishment of murder. That made, 
of course, an obvious difference. " Irrevoc- 
ably far from London," she said. Wales is a 
suburb. I gave up the idea that it was likely 
to prove her place of refuge from the two 
men she was bent on escaping. Hong-Kong, 
after all, seemed more probable than 

That first failure gave me a clue, however, 
as to the best way of applying Hilda's own 
methods. " What would such a person do 
under the circumstances ? ; ' that was her way 
of putting the question. Clearly, then, I 
must first decide what were the circumstances. 
W r as Sebastian speaking the truth? Was 
Hilda Wade, or was she not, the daughter 
of the supposed murderer, Dr. Yorke- 
Bannerman ? 

I looked up as much of the case as I could, 
in unobtrusive ways, among the old law- 
reports, and found that the barrister who had 
had charge of the defence was my father's old 
friend, Mr. Horace Mayfield, a man of elegant 
tastes, and the means to gratify them. 

I went to call on him on Sunday evening at 
his artistically luxurious house in Onslow 
Gardens. A sedate footman answered the 
bell. Fortunately, Mr. Mayfield was at home, 
and, what is rarer, disengaged. You do not 
always find a successful Q.C. at his ease 
among his books, beneath the electric light, 
ready to give up a vacant hour to. friendly 

" Remember Yorke-Bannerman's case ?" he 
said, a huge smile breaking slowly like a wave 
over his genial fat face — Horace Mayfield re- 
sembles a great good-humoured toad, with 
bland manners and a capacious double chin 
— "I should just say I did! Bless my soul 
— why, yes," he beamed, " I was Yorke- 
Bannerman's counsel. Excellent fellow, 
Yorke-Bannerman-most unfortunate end, 
though — precious clever chap, too ! Had 
an astounding memory. Recollected every 
symptom of every patient he ever attended. 
And such an eye ! Diagnosis ? It was clair- 
voyance ! A gift — no less. Knew what was 
the matter with you the moment he looked 
at you." 

That sounded like Hilda. The same sur- 
prising power of recalling facts : the same 
keen faculty for interpreting character or the 
signs of feeling. " He poisoned somebody, 
I believe," I murmured, casually. "An 
uncle of his, or something." 

Mayfield's great squat face wrinkled : the 
double chin, folding down on the neck, 

k_r I I LI I I I "."I I I T nj I I 




became more ostentatiously double than 
ever. " Well, I can't admit that," he said, in 
his suave voice, twirling the string of his eye- 
glass. " I was Yorke-Bannerman's advocate, 
you see; and therefore I was paid not to 
admit it. Besides, he was a friend of mine, 
and I always liked him. But I will allow that 
the case did look a trifle black against him." 

" Ha ? Looked black, did it ? " I faltered. 

The judicious barrister shrugged his 
shoulders. A genial smile spread oilily once 
more over his smooth face. " None of my 
business to say so," he answered, puckering 
the corners of his eyes. " Still, it was a long 
time ago : and the circumstances certainly 
were suspicious. Perhaps on the whole, 
Hubert, it was just as well the poor fellow 
died before the trial came off : otherwise " — 
he pouted his lips — "I might have had my 
work cut out to save him." And he eyed 
the blue china gods on the mantelpiece 

" I believe the Crown urged money as the 
motive," I suggested. 

Mayfield glanced inquiry at me. " Now, 
why do you want to know all this ? " he asked, 
in a suspicious voice, coming back from his 
dfagons. "It is irregular, very, to worm 
information out of an innocent barrister in 
his hours of ease about a former client. We 
are a guileless race, we lawyers : don't abuse 
our confidence." 

He seemed an honest man, I thought, in 
spite of his mocking tone. I trusted him, 
and made a clean breast of it. " 1 believe," 
I answered, with an impressive little pause, 
" I want to marry Yorke - Bannerman's 

He gave a quick start. " What, Maisie ? " 
he exclaimed. 

I shook my head. " No, no ; that is- not 
the name," I replied. 

He hesitated a moment. " But there is 
no other," he hazarded cautiously at last. 
" I knew the family." 

44 1 am not sure of it," I went on. " I 
have merely my suspicions. I am in love 
with a girl, and something about her makes 
me think she is probably a Yorke-Banner- 

44 But, my dear Hubert, if that is so/ 1 the 
great lawyer went on, waving me off with one 
fat hand, "it must be at once apparent to 
you that /am the last person on earth to 
whom you ought to apply for information. 
Remember my oath. The practice of our 
clan : the seal of secrecy ! " 

I was frank once more, 44 1 do not know 
whether the ladv I mean is or is not Yorke- 

by ^_ 


Bannerman's daughter," I persisted. "She 
may be, and she may not. She gives another 
name — that's certain. But whether she is or 
isn't, one thing I know — I mean to marry her. 
I believe in her : I trust her. I only seek to 
gain this information now because I don't 
know where she is — and I want to track her." 

He crossed his big hands with an air of 
Christian resignation, and looked up at the 
panels of the coffered ceiling. " In that," he 
answered, " I may honestly say, I can't help 
you. Humbug apart, I have not known Mrs. 
Yorke - Bannerman's address — or Maisie's 
either — ever since my poor friend's death. 
Prudent woman, Mrs. Yorke-Bannerman ! 
She went away, I believe, to somewhere in 
North Wales, and afterwards to Brittany. 
But she probably changed her name : and — 
she did not confide in me." 

I went on to ask him a few questions 
about the case, premising that I did so in 
the most friendly spirit. "Oh, I can only 
tell you what is publicly known," he answered, 
beaming, with the usual professional pretence 
of the most sphinx-like reticence. " But the 
plain facts, as universally admitted, were 
these. I break no confidence. Yorke- 
Bannerman had a rich uncle from whom he 
had expectations — a certain Admiral Scott 
Prideaux. This uncle had lately made a will 
in Yorke-Bannerman's favour ; but he was a 
cantankerous old chap — naval, you know — 
autocratic — crusty — given to changing his 
mind with each change of the wind, and 
easily offended by his relations — the sort of 
cheerful old party who makes a new will once 
every month, disinheriting the nephew he 
last dined with. Well, one day the Admiral 
was taken ill at his own house, and Yorke- 
Bannerman attended him. Our contention 
was — I speak now as my old friend's counsel 
— that Scott Prideaux, getting as tired of life 
as we were all tired of him, and wear}' of 
this recurrent worry of will-making, deter- 
mined at last to clear out for good from a 
world where he was so little appreciated, and, 
therefore, tried to poison himself." 

44 With aconitine ? " I suggested, eagerly. 

44 Unfortunately, yes : he made use of 
aconitine for that otherwise laudable 
purpose. Now, as ill luck would have it" — 
May field's wrinkles deepened — " Yorke- 
Bannerman and Sebastian, then two rising 
doctors engaged in physiological researches 
together, had just been occupied in experi- 
menting upon this very drug - testing the 
use of aconitine — indeed, you will no doubt 
remember" — he crossed his fat hands again 
comfortably — " it was these precise researches 



r8 7 


on a then little-known poison that 
brought Sebastian prominently before 
public. What was the consequence ? " 
smooth, persuasive voice flowed on as 




if I 

were a coocentrated jury. "The Admiral 
grew rapidly worse, and insisted upon calling 
in a second opinion- No doubt he didn't 
like the aconitine when it came to the pinch 
— for it daes pinch, I can tell you -and 
repented him of his evil Yorke-Bannerman 
suggested Sebastian as the second opinion ; 
the uncle acquiesced ; Sebastian was called 
in, and, of course, being fresh from his 
researches, immediately recognised the 
symptoms of aconitine poisoning." 

"What, Sebastian found it out? " I cried, 

"Oh, yes. Sebastian* He watched the 
case from that point to the end ; and the 
oddest part of it all was this that though he 
communicated with the police, and himself 
prepared every morsel of food that the poor 
old Admiral took from that moment forth, 
the symptoms continually increased in 
severity. The police contention was that 
Yorke-Bannerman somehow managed to put 
the stuff into the milk beforehand ; my own 
theory was — as counsel for the accused " — 
he blinked his fat eyes "that old Prideaux 
had concealed a large quantity of aconitine 
in the bed, before his illness, and went on 
taking it from time to time — just to spite his 

t( And you believe that, Mr, Mayfield ?" 

The broad smile broke concentrically in 


ripples over the great 
lawyer's face. His 
smile was Mayfield's 
main feature. He 
shrugged his shoul- 
ders and expanded 
his big hands wide 
open before him. 
11 My dear Hubert," 
he said, with a most 
humorous expres- 
sion of countenance, 
" you are a profes- 
sional man yourself : 
therefore you know 
that every profession 
has its own little 
courtesies — its own 
small fictions. I 
was Yorke-Hannerman's counsel as well 
as his friend. "lis a point of honour 
with us that no barrister will ever admit 
a doubt as to a client's innocence is 
he not paid to maintain it? — and to my 
dying day I will constantly maintain that old 
Prideaux poisoned himself. Maintain it with 
that dogged and meaningless obstinacy with 
which we always cling to whatever is least 
provable. ... Oh, yes. He poisoned 
himself. And Yorke-Bannerman was inno- 
cent, « . . But still, you know, it was the 
sort of case where an acute lawyer, with a 
reputation to make> would prefer to be for 
the Crown rather than for the prisoner." 
"But it was never tried," I ejaculated. 
"No, happily for us, it was never tried. 
Fortune favoured us. Y'orke - Bannerman 
had a weak heart, a conveniently weak heart, 
which the inquest sorely affected : and 
besides, he was deeply angry at what he 
persisted in calling Sebastian's defection. 
He evidently thought Sebastian ought to 
have stood by him. His colleague preferred 
the claims of public duty — as he understood 
them, I mean —to those of private friendship. 
It was a very sad case- -for Yorke-Banner- 
man was really a charming fellow. But I 
confess I was relieved when he died unex- 
pectedly on the morning of his arrest. It 
took off my shoulders a most serious burden." 
"You think, then, the case would have 
gone against him?" 

11 My dear Hubert,'' his whole face 
puckered with an indulgent smile. " Of 
course the case must have gone against 
us. Juries are fools, but they are not 
such fools as to swallow everything — 
like ostriches : to let me throw dust in 
their eyes about so plain an issue, Con- 
Original from 


1 88 


sider the facts, consider them impartially : 
Yorke-Bannerman had easy access to aconi- 
tine, had whole ounces of it in his possession : 
he treated the uncle from whom he was to 
inherit: he was in temporary embarrassments 
— that came out at the inquest : it was 
known that the Admiral had just made a 
twenty-third will in his favour, and that the 
Admiral's wills were liable to alteration every 
time a nephew ventured upon an opinion in 
polities, religion, science, navigation, or the 
right card at whist, differing by a shade from 
that of the uncle. The Admiral died of 
aconitine poisoning : and Sebastian observed 
and detailed the symptoms. Could anything 
be plainer— I mean, could any combination 
of fortuitous circumstances 51 — he blinked 
pleasantly again — " be more adverse to an 
advocate sincerely convinced of his client's 
innocence — as a professional duty?" And 
he gazed at me comically. 

The more he piled up the case against the 
man who I now felt sure was Hilda's father, 
the less did I believe him* A 
dark conspiracy seemed to 
loom up in the background. 
"Has it ever occurred to you," 
I asked at last, in a very 
tentative tone, " that per- 
haps — I throw out the hint 
as the merest suggestion 
— perhaps it may have 
been Sebastian who- 

He smiled this time till 
I thought his smile 
would swallow him. 

"If Yorke- Ban- 
ner man had retf/heen 
my client/' he mused 
aloud, " I might have 
been inclined to 
suspect rather that 
Sebastian aided him 
to avoid justice by 
giving him some- 
thing violent to take, 
if he wished it : 

different position for tracking Hilda from 
that which I occupied before my interview 
with the famous counsel I felt certain by 
this time that Hilda Wade and Maisie Yorke- 
Bannerman were one and the same person. 
To be sure, it gave me a twinge to think that 
Hilda should be masquerading under an 
assumed name: but I waived that question 
for the moment, and awaited her explanations* 
The great point now was to find Hilda. 
She was flying from Sebastian to mature a 
new plan. But whither? 1 proceeded to 
argue it out on her own principles, oh, how 
lamely ! The world is still so big ! Mauritius, 
the Argentine, British Columbia, New 
Zealand ! 

The letter I had received bore the Basing- 
stoke postmark* Now, a person may be 
passing Basingstoke on his way either to 
Southampton or Plymouth, both of which 
are ports of embarcation for various foreign 
countries. I attached importance to that 
clue. Something about the tone of Hilda's 

something which 

might accelerate the 

inevitable action of the heart-disease from 

which he was suffering* Isn't thai more 

likely ? " 

I saw there was nothing further to be got 
out of Mayfield. His opinion was fixed : he 
was a placid ruminant. But he had given 
me already much food for thought. I 
thanked him for his assistance, and returned 
on foot to my rooms at tVue hospital 

I was now, however, in a somewhat 

Digitized by & 


letter made me 
realize that she 
intended to 
put the sea 
between us. 
In concluding 
so much, I fett 
sure I was not 
mistaken. Hilda had too big and too cosmo- 
politan a mind to speak of being "irrevocably 
far from London," if she were only going to 
some town in England, or even to Normandy 
or the Channel Islands. " Irrevocably far ? ' 
pointed rather to a destination outside Europe 
altogether to India, Africa, America, not to 
Jersey, Dieppe, or Saint -Mai o. 

Was it Southampton or Plymouth to which 
she was first bound ? — that w r as the next 




question* I inclined to Southampton. Fur 
the sprawling lines (so different from her usual 
neat hand) were written hurriedly in a train, 
I could see ; and on consulting Bradshaw, 
I found that the Plymouth expresses stop 
longest at Salisbury, where Hilda would 
therefore have been likely to post her note 
if she were going to the far west : while 
some of the Southampton trains stop at 
Basingstoke, which is indeed the most con- 
venient point on that route for sending off 
a letter. This was 
mere blind gu ess- 
work , to be sure, 
compared with 
Hilda's immediate 
and unerring intui- 
tion : but it had 
some probability in 
its favour^ at any 
rate* Try both 1 
of the two, she was 
likeliest to be going 
to Southampton, 

My next move 
was to consult the 
list of outgoing 
steamers. Hilda 
had left London on 
a Saturday morn- 
ing. Now, on alternate Saturdays, the 
steamers of the Castle Line sail from 
Southampton, where they call to take up 
passengers and mails* Was this one of 
these alternate Saturdays ? 1 looked at 
the list of dates : it was, That told further 
in favour of Southampton. Rut did any 
steamer of any passenger line sail from 
Plymouth on the same day? None, that I 
could find. Or from Southampton else- 
where? I looked them all up. The. Royal 
Mail Company's boats start on Wednesdays : 
the North German Lloyd's on Wednesdays 
and Sundays, Those were the only likely 
vessels I could discover. Either, then, I 
concluded, Hilda meant to sail on Saturday 
by the Castle Line for South Africa, or else 
on Sunday by North German Lloyd for some 
part of America. 

How I longed for one hour of Hilda to 
help me out with her almost infallible instinct. 
1 realized how feeble and fallacious was my 
own groping in the dark. Her knowledge of 
temperament would have revealed to her at 
once what I was trying to discover, like the 
police she despised, by the clumsy " clues" 
which so roused her sarcasm. 

However, I went to bed and slept on it 
Next morning, I determined to set out for 

Digitized byXsi 

Southampton on a tour of inquiry to all the 
steamboat agencies. If that failed, I could 
go on to Plymouth. 

But, as chance would have it, the morning 
post brought me an unexpected letter, which 
helped me not a little in unravelling the 
problem. It was a crumpled letter, written 
on rather soiled paper, in an uneducated 
hand, and it bore> like Hilda's, the Basing- 
stoke postmark. 

"Charlotte Churtwood sends her duty to Dr. 

said, with somewhat 
uncertain spelling, 
li and I am very 
sorry that I was 
not able to Post 
the letter to you 
in London, as the 
lady ast me, but 
after her train ad 
left has I was step- 
ping into mine the 
Ingine started and 
I was knocked 
down and badly 
hurt and the lady 
give me a half- 
sovering to Post it 
in London has 
but bein unable to 
it dear sir not know- 
and adress she 



soon as 1 got there 
do so I now return 
ing the lady's name 
having trusted me through seeing me on the 
platform, and perhaps you can send it back 
to her, and was very sorry I could not Post 
it were she ast me, but time bein an objeck 
put it in the box in Basingstoke station and 
now inclose post office order for ten Shillings 
whitch dear sir kindly let the young lady 
have from your obedient sen ant, Charlotte 
Churtwood" In tht: corner was the address, 
** ii, Chubb's Cottages, Basingstoke," 

The happy accident of this letter advanced 
things for me greatly — though it also made 
me feel how dependent I was upon happy 
accidents, where Hilda would have guessed 
right at once by mere knowledge of character. 
Still, the letter explained many things which 
had hitherto puzzled me. I had felt not a 
little surprise that Hilda, wishing to with- 
draw from me and leave no traces, should 
have sent off her farewell letter from Basing- 
stoke — so as to let me see at once in what 
direction she was travelling, Nay, I even 
wondered at times whether she had really 
posted it herself at Basingstoke, or given it 
to somebody who chanced to be going there 
to post for her as a blind. But I did not 


i go 


think she would deliberately deceive me ; 
and, in my opinion, to get a letter posted at 
Basingstoke would be deliberate deception, 
while to get it posted in London was mere 
vague precaution, I understood now that 
she had written it in the train, and then 
picked out a likely person as she passed to 
take it to Waterloo for her 

Of course I went straight down to Basing- 
stoke, and called at once at Chubb's Cottages, 
It was a squalid little row on the outskirts of 
the town, I found Charlotte Churt- 
wood herself exactly such a girl as 
Hilda, with her quick judgment of 
character, might have hit upon for 
such a purpose. She was a conspicu- 
ously honest and transparent country 
servant, of the lumpy type, on her 
way to London to take a place 
as housemaid. Her injuries 
were severe, but not dangerous. 
" The lady saw me on the 
platform,' 5 she said, Lfi and 
beckoned to me to come to 
her. She ast me where I was 
going, and I says, £ To London, 
miss.* Says she, smiling kind- 
like, * Could you post a letter 
for me, certain sure ? ' Says 
I, ■ You can depend upon me,' 
An J then she give me the 
'arf-sovering, an* says, says she, 
'Mind, it's very partickler : if the gentleman 
don't get it, Vll fret ? is 'eart out/ An' 
through 'aving a young man o' my own, as is 
a groom at Andover, o 1 course I understood 
'er f sir* An J then, feeling all full of it, as von 
may say, what with the arf-sovering, and 
what with one thing and what with another, 
an T all of a fluster with not being used to 
travelling, I run up, when the train for 
London come in, an J tried to scramble into 
it, afore it 'ad quite stopped moving. An* a 
guard, *e rushes up, an J ' Stand back ! ' says 
*e ; 4 wait till the train stops ! J says 5 e, an' 
waves his red flag at me. But afore I could 
stand back, with one foot on the step, the 
train sort of jumped away from me, and 
knocked me down like this : and they say 
it'll be a week now afore I'm well enough to 
go on to London. But I posted the letter 
all the same, at Basingstoke station, as 
they was carrying me off: an' I took 
down the address, so as to return the arf- 

Hilda was right, as always. She had chosen 
instinctively the trustworthy person* Chosen 
her at first sight, and hit the bull's-eye 

11 Do you know what train the lady was 

in ? " I asked, as she paused. " Where was 
it going, did you notice ? fh 

** It was the Southampton train, sir. I saw 
the board on the carriage." 

That settled the question. " You are a 
good and an honest girl/' I said, pulling out 
my purse : " and you came to this misfortunt 
through trying — too eagerly— to help the 
young lady. A ten-pound note is not over 
much as compensation for your accident. 
Take it, and get well. I should be sorry to 





think you lost a good place through your 
anxiety to help us." 

The rest of my way was plain sailing now. 
I hurried on straight to Southampton, 
There, my first visit was to the office of the 
Castle Line. I went to the point at once. 
Was there a Miss Wade among the passengers 
by the Du not tar Cast/e I 

No : nobody of that name on the list. 

Had any lady taken a passage at the last 
moment ? 

The clerk perpended. Yes : a lady hail 
come by the mail train from London, with 
no heavy baggage, and had gone on board 
direct, taking what cabin she could get, A 
young lady in grey. Quite unprepared. 
Clave no name. Called away in a hurry. 

What sort of lady ? 

Original from 



Youngish : good-looking : brown hair and 
eyes, the clerk thought : a sort of creamy 
skin : and a — well, a mesmeric kind of 
glance that seemed to go right through you. 

" That will do," I answered, sure now of 
my quarry. " To which port did she book ? " 

"To Cape Town." 

" Very well," I said, promptly. " You may 
reserve me a good berth in the next outgoing 

It was just like Hilda's impulsive character 
to rush off in this way at a moment's notice. 
And just like mine to follow her. But it 
piqued me a little to think that but for the 
accident of an accident I might never have 
tracked her down. If the letter had been 
posted in London as she intended, and not 
at Basingstoke, I might have sought in vain 
for her from then till Doomsday. 

Ten days later, I was afloat on the Channel, 
bound for South Africa. 

I always admired Hilda's astonishing 
insight into character and motive : but I 
never admired it quite so profoundly as on 
the g'orious day when we arrived at Cape 
Town. I was standing on deck, looking out , 
for the first time in my life on that tremendous 
view— the steep and massive bulk of Table 
Mountain, a mere lump of rock, dropped 
loose from the sky, with tfie" long white town 
spread gleaming at its base, and the silver- 
tree plantations that cling to its lower slopes 
and merge by degrees into gardens and vine- 
yards — when a messenger from the shore 
came up to me tentatively.' 

" Dr. Cumberledge ? " he said, in an 
inquiring tone. 

I nodded. "That is my name." 

" I have a letter for you, sir." 

I took it, in great surprise. Who on earth 
in Cape Town could have known I was 
coming ? I had not a friend to my know- 
ledge in the colony. I glanced at the 
envelope. My wonder deepened. That 
prescient brain ! It was in Hilda's hand- 

I tore it open and read : " My Dear 
Hubert, — I knmv you will come : I know 
you will follow me. So I am leaving this 
letter at Donald Currie and Co.'s office, 
giving their agent instructions to hand it to 
you as soon as you reach Cape Town. I am 
quite sure you will track me so far at least : 
I understand your temperament. But I beg 
you, I implore you, to go no further. You 
will ruin my plan if you do. And I still 
adhere to it. It is good of you to come so 
far : I cannot blame you for that. I know 
your motives. But do not try to find me 

Digitized by K* OOg J C 

out. I warn you beforehand, it will be quite 
useless. I have made up my mind. I have 
an object in life, and dear as you are to me 
— that I will not pretend to deny — I can 
never allow even you to interfere with it. So 
be warned in time. Go back quietly by the 
next steamer. 

" Your ever attached and grateful, 


I read it twice through with a little thrill 
of joy. Did any man ever court so strange 
a love? Her very strangeness drew me. 
But go back by the next steamer ! I felt 
sure of one thing : Hilda was far too good a 
judge of character to believe that I was likely 
to obey that mandate. 

I will not trouble you with the remaining 
stages of my quest. Except for the slowness 
of South African mail coaches, they were 
comparatively easy. It is not so hard to 
track strangers in Cape Town as strangers in 
London. I followed Hilda to her hotel, and 
from her hotel up country, stage after stage 
— jolted by rail, worse jolted by mule- 
waggon — inquiring, inquiring, inquiring — 
till I learned at last she was somewhere in 

That is a big address ; but it does not cover 
as many names as it covers square miles. In 
time, I found her. Still, it took time : and 
before we met, Hilda had had leisure to 
settle down quietly to her new existence. 
People in Rhodesia had noted her coming, 
as a new portent, because of one strange 
peculiarity. She was the only woman of means 
who had ever gone up of her own free will to 
Rhodesia. Other women had gone there to 
accompany their husbands, or to earn their 
livings : bpt that a lady should freely select 
that half-baked land as a place of residence— 
a lady of position with all the world before 
her where to choose — that puzzled the 
Rhodesians. So she was a marked person. 
Most people solved the vexed problem, 
indeed, by suggesting that she had designs 
against the stern celibacy of a leading South 
African politician. " Depend upon it," they 
said, " it's Rhodes she's after." The moment 
I arrived at Salisbury and stated my object 
in coming, all the world in the new town was 
ready to assist me. The lady was to be 
found (vaguely speaking) on a young farm to 
the north— a budding farm whose general 
direction was expansively indicated to me 
by a wave of the arm, with South African 

I bought a pony at Salisbury— a pretty 
little seasoned sorrel mare — and set out to 
find Hilda. My way lay over a brand-new 




road — or what passes for a road in South 
Africa— very soft and lumpy, like an English 
cart-track. I am a fair cross-count 1 v rider in 
our own Midlands, but I never rode a more 
tedious journey than that one. I had crawled 
several miles under a blazing sun along the 
shad el ess new track, on my African pony, 
when to my surprise I saw, of all sights in 
the world, a bicycle coming towards me. 
I could hardly believe my eyes. Civil iza- 


tion indeed ! A bicycle in these remotest 
wilds of Africa ! 

I had been picking my way for some hours 
through a desolate plateau — the high veldt — 
about five thousand feet above the sea level, 
and entirely treeless* In places, to be sure, 
a few low bushes of prickly aspect rose in 
tangled clumps ; but for the most part the 
arid table-land was covered by a thick growth 
of short brown grass, about nine inches high, 
burnt up in the sun, and most wearisome to 
look at. The distressing nakedness of a 
new country confronted me. Here and there 
a bald farm or two had been literally pegged 
out— the pegs were almost all one saw 
of them as yet : the fields were in the 
future. Here and there, again, a scattered 
range of low granite hills, known locally as 
kopjes -red, rocky prominences, flaunting in 
the sunshine — diversified the distance. But 
the road, itself, such as it was, lay all on the 
high plain, looking down now and again into 
gorges or kloofs, wooded on their slopes with 
scrubby trees, and comparatively well- watered. 
In the midst of all this crude, unfinished land 

by Google 

the mere sight of a bicycle, bumping over 
the rubbly road, was a sufficient surprise: but 
my astonishment reached a climax when I 
saw as it drew near that it was ridden by a 
woman ! 

One moment later I had burst into a wild 

cry, and rode forward to her hurriedly. 

" Hilda ! " I shouted aloud in niv excitement, 


She stepped lightly from her pedals as if 

it had been in the 
park : head erect 
and proud : eyes 
liquid, lustrous. I 
dismounted, trem- 
bling, and stood 
beside her. In the 
wild joy of the 
moment, for the 
first time in my 
life, I kissed her 
fervently. Hilda 
took the kiss, unre 
proving. She did 
not attempt to re- 
fuse me. 

" So you have 
come at last I n she 
murmured, with a 
glow on her face, 
half nestling 
towards me, half 
withdrawing, as if 
two wills tore her 
in different directions. ,4 I have been 
expecting you for some days, and somehow, 
to-day, I was almost certain you were 
coming 1 " 

" Then you are not angry with me ? v I 
cried. " You remember, you forbid me ! " 

"Angry with you? Dear Hubert, could I 
ever be angry with you, especially for thus 
showing me your devotion and your trust ? 
I am never angry with you. When one 
knows, one understands. I have thought of 
you so often: sometimes, alone here in this 
raw new land, I have longed for you to come. 
It is inconsistent of me, of course : but I am 
so solitary, so lonely ! " 

"And vet you begged me not to follow 
you ! " 

She looked up at me shyly — I was not 
accustomed to see Hilda shy. Her eyes 
gazed deep into mine beneath the long soft 
lashes. 4i I begged you not to follow me," 
she repeated, a strange gladness in her tone. 
"Yes, dear Hubert, I begged you -and 1 
meant it. Cannot you understand that some- 
times one hopes a thing may never happen— 
Grrgmal from 




bosom* She allowed 
I am too weak/ 1 she 

and is supremely happy because it happens in 
spite of one? I have a purpose in life for 
which I live : I live for it still : for its sake I 
told you you must not come to me. Yet 

you have come against my orders : and " 

she paused and drew a deep sigh— "oh, 
Hubert, I thank you for daring to disobey 

I clasped her to my 
me, half resisting. * ( 
murmured, " Only 
this morning I 
made up my mind 
that when I saw 
you I would im- 
plore you to return 
at once. And now 
that you are 

here " she laid 

her little hand con- 
fidingly in mine — 
" see how foolish 
I am ! — I cannot 
dismiss you." 

" Which means 
to say > Hilda, that 
after all you axe 
still a woman ! " 

U A woman : oh, 
yes : very much 
a woman ! Hu- 
bert, I love you : 
I half wish I did 

"Why, dar- 
ling?" I drew 
her to me. 

M Because — if I did not, I could send you 
away -so easily ! As It is— I cannot let you 
stop— and , , , . I cannot dismiss you." 

"Then divide it," I cried gaily- "do 
neither : come away with me ! " 

" No, no : nor that either. I will not 
stultify my whole past life : 1 will not dis- 
honour my dear fathers memory," 

I looked around for something to which to 
tether my horse, A bridle is in one's way — 
when one has to discuss important business. 
There was really nothing about that seemed 
fit for the purpose. Hilda saw what I 
sought, and pointed mutely to a stunted 
bush beside a big granite boulder which rose 
abruptly from the dead level of the grass, 
affording a little shade from that sweltering 
sunlight. I tied my mare to the gnarled 
root — it was the only part big enough— and 
sat down by Hilda's side under the shadow of 
a great rock in a thirsty land. I realized at 
that moment the force and appropriateness of 

Vol. xviiL— 25- 

jitized by \jOOSK 

the Psalmist's simile* The sun beat fiercely on 
the seeding grasses. Away on the southern 
horizon we could faintly perceive the floating 
yellow haze of the prairie fires lit by the 

"Then you knew I would come?" I 
began, as she seated herself on the burnt-up 
herbage, while my hand stole into hers to 
nestle there naturally. 

She pressed it in return. " Oh, yes, I 


knew you would come," she answered, with 
that strange ring of confidence in her voice. 
^Of course you got my letter at Cape 

14 1 did, Hilda— and I wondered at you 
more than ever as I read it But if you 
knnv I would come, why write to prevent 

Her eyes had their mysterious far-away air* 
She looked out upon infinity* "Well, I 
wanted to do my best to turn you aside/* she 
said, slowly. "One must always do one's 
best, even when one feels and believes it is 
useless, That surelv is the first clause in a 
doctors or a nurse's rubric." 

11 But why didn't you want me to come ?" 
I persisted, " Why fight against your own 
heart? Hilda, I am sure — I know you love 

Her bosom rose and fell- Her eyes dilated, 
" Love you ? " she cried, looking away over 
the bushy ridges, as if afraid to trust herself- 




u Oh, yes, Hubert, I love you. It is not for 
that that I wish to avoid you. Or rather, it 
is just because of that I cannot endure 
to spoil your life — by a fruitless affection." 

" Why fruitless ? " I asked, leaning forward. 

She crossed her hands resignedly. " You 
know all by this time," she answered. 
" Sebastian would tell you, of course, when 
you went to announce that you were leaving 
Nathaniel's. He could not do otherwise : it 
is the outcome of his temperament— an 
integral part of his nature.' 1 

" Hilda, " I cried, " you are a witch ! How 
could you know that ? I can't imagine." 

She smiled her restrained Chaldean smile. 
* Because I know Sebastian," she answered, 
quietly. " I can read that man to the core. 
He is simple as a book. His composition is 
plain, straightforward, quite natural, uniform. 
There are no twists and turns in Tiim. Once 
learn the key, and it discloses everything, 
like an open, sesame! He has a gigantic 
intellect, a burning thirst for knowledge : one 
love, one hobby — science : and no moral 
instincts. He goes straight for his end's : 
and whatever comes in his way," she dug her 
little heel in the brown soil, " he tramples 
on it as ruthlessly as a child will trample on 
a worm or a beetle." 

" And yet," I said, "he is so great* 

" Yes, great I grant you, but the easiest 
character to unravel that I have ever met : 
it is calm, austere, unbending, yet not in 
the least degree complex. He has the 
impassioned temperament, pushed to its 
highest pitch : the temperament that runs 
deep, with irresistible force : but the passion 
that inspires him, that carries him away head- 
long, as love carries some men — is a rare and 
abstract one — the passion of science." 

I gazed at her as she spoke, with a feeling 
akin to awe. " It must destroy the plot- 
interest of life for you, Hilda," I cried — out 
there in the vast void of that wild African 
plateau — "to foresee so well what each 
person will do — how each will act under such 
given circumstances." 

She pulled a bent of grass and plucked off 
its dry spikelets one by one. " Perhaps so," 
she answered, after a meditative pause; 
"though, of course, all natures are not 
equally simple. Only with great souls can 
you be sure beforehand like that, for good 
or for evil. It is essential to anything 
worth calling character that one should be 
able to predict in what way it will act under 
given circumstances — to feel certain, 'This 
man will do nothing small or mean,' i That 
one could never act dishonestly, or speak 

by K: 



deceitfully.' But smaller natures are more 
complex. They defy analysis, because their 
motives are not consistent" 

" Most people think to be complex is to be 
great," I objected. 

She shook her head. "That is quite a 
mistake," she answered. "Great natures 
are simple and relatively predictable, since 
their motives balance one another justly. 
Small natures are complex and hard to pre- 
dict, because small passions, small jealousies, 
small discords and perturbations come in at 
all moments, and override for a time the 
permanent underlying factors of character. 
Great natures, good or bad, are equably 
poised : small natures let petty motives inter- 
vene to upset their balance." 

"Then you knew I would come," I ex- 
claimed, half pleased to find I belonged 
inferentially to her higher category. 

Her eyes beamed on me with a beautiful 
light "Knew you would come? Oh, yes. 
I begged you not to come : but I felt sure 
you were too deeply in earnest to obey me. 
I asked a friend in Cape Town to telegraph 
your arrival: and almost ever since the 
telegram readied me I have been expecting 
you and awaiting you." 

" So you believed in me ? " 

" Implicitly— as you in me. That is the 
worst of it, Hubert If you did not believe 
in me I could have told you all — and then, 
you would have left me. But, as it is, you 
know all — and yet, you want to cling to me." 

" You know I know all — because Sebastian 
told me?" 

" Yes : and I think I even know how you 
answered him." 


She paused. The calm smile lighted up 
her face once more. Then she drew out a 
pencil. "You think life must lack plot- 
interest for me," she began, slowly, " because, 
with certain natures, I can partially guess 
beforehand what is coming. But have you 
not observed that, in reading a novel, part of 
the pleasure you feel arises from your con- 
scious anticipation of the end, and your 
satisfaction in seeing that you anticipated cor- 
rectly ? Or part, sometimes, from the occa- 
sional unexpectedness of the real denouement f 
Well, life is like that I enjoy observing my 
successes, and, in a way, my failures. Let 
me show you what I mean. I think I know 
what you said to Sebastian — not the words, 
of course, but the purport : and I will write 
it down now for you. Set down your 
version, too. And then we will compare 

Original from 




It was a crucial test. We both wrote for a 
minute or two. Somehow, in Hilda's 
presence, I forgot at once the strangeness of 
the scene, the weird oddity of the moment 
That sombre plain disappeared for me* I 
was only aware that I was with Hilda once 
more and therefore in Paradise, Pison and 
Gihon watered the desolate land. Whatever 
she did seemed to me supremely right. If 
she had proposed to me to begin a ponderous 
work on Medical Jurisprudence under the 
shadow of the big rock, I should have begun 
it incontinently. 

She handed me her slip of paper ; I took 
it and read, M Sebastian told you I was Dr. 
Vorke - Bannerman's daughter. And you 
answered, 'If so, Yorke-Bannerman was 
innocent, and you are the poisoner/ Is not 
that correct?" 

I handed her in answer my own paper. 
She read it with a faint flush, When she 
came to the words, " Either she is not Vorke- 
Bannerman'-s daughter \ or else, Yorke-Ban- 
nerman was not a poisoner, and someone else 
was — I might put a name to him," 
she rose to her feet with a great 
rush of long-suppressed feeling and 
clasped me passionately, *' My 
Hubert," she cried, " I read you 
aright I knew it ! I was sure of 
you ! n 

I folded her in my arms, there 
on the rusty-red South African 
desert. "Then, Hilda dear," I 
murmured, t£ you will consent to 
marry me ? " 

The words brought her back 
to herself. She unfolded my arms 
with slow reluctance, M No, 
dearest," she said, earnestly, with 
a face where pride fought hard 
against love. "That is why above 
all things I did not want you to 
follow me. I love you ; I trust 
you : you love me \ you trust me. 
But I never will marry anyone till 
I have succeeded in clearing my 
father's memory. I kmnv he did 
not do it : I kmnv Sebastian did. 
But that is not enough. I must 
prove it, I must prove it ! " 

" I believe it already," I an- 
swered. " What need then to 
prove it ? " 

" To you, Hubert ? Oh, no, not 

to you. There, I am safe. But to the 
world that condemned him. Condemned him 
untried. I must vindicate him : I must 
clear him ! " 

I bent my face close to hers, M But may 
I not marry you first ? " I asked — " and after 
that, I can help you to clear him." 

She gazed at me fearlessly. "No, no," 
she cried, clasping her hands j "much as I 
love you, dear Hubert, I cannot consent to 
it. I am too proud, too proud ! I will not 
allow the world to say — not even to say 
falsely " — her face flushed crimson ; her 
voice dropped low—" I will not allow them 
to say those hateful words, ' He married a 
murderers daughter/" 

I bowed my head, "As you will, my 
darling," I answered "I am content to 
wait. I trust you in this too, Some day, 
we will prove it" 

And all. this time, preoccupied as I was with 
these deeper concerns, I had not even asked 
where Hilda lived or what she was doing ! 


by Google 

Original from. 

A Peep into "Punch" 

By J. Holt Schooling, 

[ llie Proprietors of " Punch v have given special permission to reproduce the accompanying illustrations* This 
is the first occasion when a periodical has been enabled to present a selection from Mr. fHtncA's famous pages*] 

Part VI I L— i88q to 1884, 

This par/ contains the first of Mr. Harry turn is is '* Punch" -drawings. 

Keene (the great master of black-and- 
white art), I .in ley Sambourne, Sir John 
Tenniel, Mr. A, C. Corbould, and others 
are all in full swing ; and now, in 1880, Mr + 
Harry Furniss comes to add his lustre to 
Mr, Punch's shining band of artists, 

it is all very well to laugh with Mr. Punch 
at his smart jokes as we turn over the pages 

L, — F1Y LKS.MKL., 1 

HE powerful and im 
Tenniel - cartoon in No* 
published in Punch on 
1880. On April z8th 
year, Mr, Gladstone again 
Prime Minister, the Const native 
party having been utterly routed at 
the (General Election. The Liberals 
went back to the House of Commons 
with a great majority of one hundred 
and twenty votes, and Lord Beacons- 
field —now near to the end of his life 
— saw the sun of his popularity go 
down to rise no more. Sir John 
Tenniel finely drew the great states- 
man on this bare cliff, lonely and 
impressed by his disastrous defeat, 
watching across the sea the last gleam 
of his setting sun as it drops into the 

The ten volumes of Punch which 
cover the five years now illustrated 
(Vols. 78 to 87) are very rich in fine 
pictures. I)u Manner, Charles 


1 was 
May I, 
of that 

N at u fc a l Rblksion* — Hish &p (rtprm'ing diimf*** t Fmgw). 
(t Wretched Boy ! U'Aa ift it l hat sees and liear* a]) we do, and 
before whom coca I ami but a* a Crushed Worm ? " 

Fag*. " The Missus, my Lard I " 

i— BTf 1,1 U \ LjktEJi, icao, 

of his wonderful books ; but we ought not to 
let our appreciation of Punch stop at the 



% \ lift * 

M lit! 

i 1 






r^mT *~^m, Q 





W,^s^\ A 


v-- \ 








mt> ■ *> 



5 ; 



t >tt 





- — — ^^** 

■ - 

"A Picftp&STlNATC K.A. '*— Aftituma (tittering'). "'Now, I'm sure you 
Children are in Mischief, JfOU art so quiet \ " 

Eihtl (in a rafltur&iis H'firxflt*K " Hush, Ma"! Tommy's l*en Paimin' 
si Spiders Web on Grandpa's 1 1 t-nd while he's asleep, to keep the Flies off! " 


Original from 



jokes —it is well 
to remember that 
his pages contain 
a gallery of art as 
well as a gallery 
of jokes, Mr. 
Punch's gallery 
of art, through 
which we are 
now happily 
privileged to 
stroll, contains, 
without excep- 
tion, the most 
splendid collec- 
tion of pictures 
in black « and - 
white that has 
ever been got together by anyone. 

There is a most amusing bit 
Manner's social pictorial satire in 

Hey — ess that v"t:r DflBg, Mini? 
he waiis mine ance, but lie" 


of Du 
No, z, 

aye diieiti Tor hcH&tl yc 

in No. 4* Just 
read the joke, 
and then enjoy 
the picture, com- 
paring the facial 
expression of the 
two Scots with 
the words pat 
into their mouths 
— a first - class 
joke and the pic- 
ture a gem. 

No. 5 is Mr. 
Harry Kumiss's 
first Punch - pic- 
ture ; it refers to 
the ugly Temple 

Take away that Bauble I " 


followed in No. 
3 by one of 
Charles Keened 
pictures in which 
we sec the group 
of fourjust 
exactly caught, 
and drawn with 
their surrou tid- 
ings as a piece 
of actual life 
without a shade 
of exaggeration. 

There is an- 
other inimitable 
Keene ~ picture 

A Poskm*— "' Its ttoi *o much a 
Crispin, 1 want some 1 bing I\x;mty, 
same time a wee bit Miu±y .' " 

ay GoOgic 

A v A v T F. H *T 11 o '. 1 . 1 1 1 . / ' * ojfffwnml Ttmfer*nt:t' I ^ralor. 
li Waiter, have you got any Soda-Water?" 

Bat mmm. " V 1 "^ir -plenty. Sir. A Bottle of fioda t Sir?" 
Prp/i Temp, OrAtar fotttitfatt&usty}. ,4 A Bottle of SixJa* 
Water, please ; and— (i&tt& twcfj — J think you can put a Glass 
iif H randy inicj it !" 6* — esy charles kihene, tSEa, 

Bar "Griffin J? (really a heraldic dragon) which 
now marks the ancient standing-place of 

poor old Temple 
Bar that was 
removed from 
Fleet Street in 
1877 as bein^ 
an obstruction to 
traffic, and which 
now serves as 
an entrance to 
Theobalds Park, 
near CheshunL 

In No. 6— by 
Keene — the 
long, black- 
gloved finger of 

Durable Artick that 1 require, Mr, the Professional 
you know— something toy, and at the —*, 

7> - »v du kav*W r«3a Temperance 

Original from 



Orator instinctively points his 
craftily -man aged sotfo voce instruc- 
tion to the barman, l * I think you 
can put a Glass of Brandy into it ! " 

Uncoh^uomisim^. — The Doctors B&ugkttr* 
iA I declare you're a dreadful Fanatic, Mrs, 
McCizzom. I do believe you think nobody will 
be saved hut you and your Minister ! " 

Old Lady. " Aweel, my dear, ah while* hae 
ma dooht* aboot the Met m liter ! " 

&.— |1Y CHARL^ KKENE, 1 6S0. 

Another amusing du Maurier 
social satire in No. y, and then two 
first-rate Keene-pictures (both with 
funny " cackle ") in Nos, 8 and 9, 
The old woman's face in No, 3 is 
an extraordinarily truthful representation of 
her character— just look into this face— as 
she replies* " Aweel, my dear, ah whiles hae 
ma doobts aboot the Meenister ! " 

■ — M iH-B IB 

ntgn*i joss 6t 



tuu-KLF tar icAitAvorcw yraai rouuur ft?i Tm rerun it mnoi™*."-** i 


The cartoon in No. 10 shows to us Ix>rd 
Beaconsfield presenting to Mr. Punch a copy 
of his book u Endyrnion*" published at the 
close of 1880, Beaconsfield is represented 
as Endymion the shepherd who would be 
always young, and Mr. Punch's dog, Toby, 
comes to sniff. The words at the bottom of 

A N'UTB and Ql ekv.- U't/c fgh*tn fo Literature ami the 
Drama)* *' George, what is the meaning of the Expression, 
1 Go to! P you meet with so often in Shak&peare and the old 

Husband {not a trading Man). **" Don't It now, I'm si^re, 
Dear, unless — — Well,— p'raps he was going lo say — hut 
thought it wouldn't sound proper * n 


by Google 

What It Has Come To.— Mrs. Jtfuggirs. '* Well, Doctor, 
I don't know as what's the matter with filarier since she come 
from her last SiterwaLion in Lunnon* There she sits all Day 
a^ taring at an old Chiney Dish, which she calls a-going in for 

Artk/ttUFf" „ , It*— BY HANKY FUVNISi, 1B81. 




.this cartoon are quoted from the 
novel " Endymion," Scaramouch 
meaning Punch, and they refer to 
the rather severe and sometimes con- 
temptuous handling that Beacons- 
field had in past times received from 
Punch. You observe that Mr. Punch 
adds the remark, " Ahem I He did 
flatter himself! " thus expressing his 
intention not to mitigate "for the 
future ",..." the literary and the 
graphic representations of M Lord 
Beaconsfield when dealing with the 
statesman in Punchy otherwise Scara- 
mouch. Mr. Punch could never be 
flattered into friendship, not even by 
so astute a man as Benjamin Disraeli. 
In No. ii, Mr, Harry Furniss 
gives us an amusing caricature of the 
aesthetic craze descended into the kitchen. 
The awe-stricken Mrs. Muggles is very good, 

EmmrrVK,— Qjfi&r* "How's ibt^ Murphy? The Sergeant complains 
thsu you called him Names !" 

Prjf? Murphy. <A Plase t Sun - , 1 Diver called him anny Names at all. 
All 1 said was, ' Sergeant/ say* J, * some of us ought to be \a a Menagerie! 1 " 

I J. KV LHAKl.KS KK>Ah, l68l. 

Jones will most heartily indorse du Manner's 
words, "Things one would rather have left 
unsaid," and will bitterly regret his M I 
will ! ,T just now spoken at the altar 

In No, 13 Private Murphy had good 
reason for his remark to his sergeant, 
although it was rather personal, for we 
may be sure Lhat Charles Keene drew this 
sergeant from life. 

Here is a splendid " old masteT " for 
you ! A happy conceit indeed of Mr, 
Harry Furniss when he drew the picture 
in No, 1 4 ! 

Du Maurier gives us a good thing in 


u.— by lie; MAUHtith, 1BS1. 

and so is the quite nonplussed village doctor, 
who, it is clear to see, has "a case" that is 
quite outside of his experience. 

Wt laugh at du Maurier's picture No. 12, 
but it is certain that poor Jones didn't As 
we compare the relative degrees of deter- 
mination in the faces of Jones and of his 
bride (who '* takes after" her father) we 
realize that no very long time will pass before 


(By fftmt^f. ) 

by Google 

d^—uv hawkv FirittiJjw, 1882* 
rigmal from 




Cause amp Effect. — Eminent Prwintiaj 
Tragedian. "Come hithorr, Sweet One! Your 
Moihorr tells me that 70U *hed Teom during my 
Soliloquy in Exile, last night ! " 

Swttt One. "Yes, Sir. Mother kept on Pinching 
me, 'cause I was &o Sleepy 3 " 

15.— uv i>u mausiek, 1SB2. 

No. 15 ; one hardly knows which to 
admire the more — the drawing of the 
Eminent Provincial Tragedian's face, 
or the very cleverly though t-out-and- 

"By Pjhjxv," — Humorous Litfi* Boy\ "Plea" Sir, will you Ring the 
Bottom Bell but One, Font times t Sir?" 

Old Gent {Gouty, ami a Hi tie Peaf, but so f<m*l <? Children). " Bottom 
Bell but One. Four times, my Boy If" (Mffiurzvly). *• Certainly, that 1 
will 1" [In thr meantime ojf go the Boys, find, at the Third Petti t the 
irritable Old Lady on tke Ground Flwr—TABLEA U I ] 

16.--1IV CHAltl.ES KEENER, lS8z. 

spelt words of the " cackle " 
which are put into his mouth. 
In any one of Charles 
Keene's pictures it is not 
easy to pick out pieces that 
are better than other pieces 
of the same picture — he was 
not content until the whole 
of each picture was as near 
perfection as possible, and 
probably he was not content 

GevtntMs Gladdy /Vdrwj'rfj'iK (to AT astir Paddy, mito is $ till crying for 
the Moon). " Come and ttlt its Gladdy quietly then \ And, if he can't 
have it aJt f hi& Gladdy will see if she can give htm a link bit of it ! " 
17*— by un lsV SAMboukne, 1 88a, 

even then* But, in No* 16, if one 
may venture to point to a thing that 
strikes one as being the cleverest part 
of this picture, there is the back-view 
of the running boy who has just 
started to run, after making sure that 
the old gentleman quite understands 
what he has to do with the bell. 

No. 17 is a very fine drawing by 
Mr. Linley Sambourne, It refers^ 
as we see t to the Irish Home Rule 
matter which in 1882 was so much 
to the fore. Who can say what has 
been the effect of this one picture — 
which crystallizes the Home Rule 
affair into the shape in which it is 
regarded by the great majority of 
people in this country- — upon killing 


APRIL 3, 1882, 

rtrti-j 1 ■- "Original from 




the Home Rule question 
as a matter of practical 
politics? One cannot, of 
course, gauge the effect of 
this very clever picture, but 
it is reasonable to think 
that it did have a quite 
appreciable influence in 
that unhappy mistake which 
cut up Gladstone's great 
victorious Liberal Party of 
1880 — splendid as the old 
man's fight was ! 

We see in No. 18 Harry 
Furniss's development of 
the famous Gladstone- 
collar which subsequently 
was such a prominent fea- 
ture in the Gladstone- 
caricatures* Lord Ran- 
dolph Churchill is here 
shown as the " gelter-up " 
of Mr. Gladstone's collar 
(or choler), and we see 
that Lord Randolph diminishes to gnat- 



io, BV TESNrei-, 1S&2, 

like size as the old man's collar grows to its 

Sir John Tenniel's strong and vivid cartoon 

The Man That Hath Not Music/' Etc*— Br&wn 

{musical} invites his Highland fr itmi \ M^Clanky^ t& stay a- 
feiu days with him. But M^C lanky was musical tw> ! 
M^C lanky {the nejrt ni&r*ing)+ iA Will 1 give you a Chune? " 

Rr&x±>n(he had wandered what was in that Green Bag*). 
"Oh— eh? Thanks, very much!" {/*uts en itUMJid fcr* 
jpressian), " But my Doctor telk me I must on no account 
indulge oiy passion for Music for some time ! " 

so.— KY CHARLES KEENEj l3#2 t 

Vol* xviii.-2B* 

by Google 

Kutnuspkction. Scene— ^•Esthetic Ncighhvurkpad.- Con- 
verted Betting Man- (plays First Concertina in Sahmtian 
A titty ftattd). '* Pooty Ouses they builds in ikese 5 u bubs, 
Mr. SwaggeT." 

Mr. S, {Reformed Burglar + and Banner- Bearer in the 
same). l, Aht and hovt 'andy ihem little Bat-co-nies would V 
been in former " 

[A warning j$&urisk en the Concertina, and Mr. S* drv/s 
the ■ subject t\ 21. — HY CHAHLJvS kcknk, 1&B3. 




in No* 19 takes us back to the early days 
of the Egyptian Question, in which' 
France then (1882) shared with us part 
of the responsibility for setting things 
right on the Nile. No. 20, by Charles 
Keene, contains a portrait of Keene 
himself, the man with the bag-pipes, who 
says to his musical friend, "Will I give 
you a Chune ? " Keene was devoted to 
tins strange instrument, and it is pro- 
bable that the incident here illustrated 


FrttHi&is [«r A ify). "C'esi t,res bim (kit, Mmu Cher Jean ! You 
avc ih mi' ■•■ ■•• :i. ! V .v ins mmi ami, I *Ii:jI1 hhar« «■[/ vm rr fflofy I 

CAJKDOUILi — Pas for (w/to w&s f>rr paring ka Pupa's fur C&M* 
/irritation}. "Now, my Boy, tell mc, who i* your Spiritual and 
Ghostly Etremy l " 
m Fugit (afttr painful hfjitoticm}. *' Pltw*, Sir> voU ape, 

Sir 5 " 32. — EtY CHAHLIES KE1lSE ( i&Sj. 

actually happened to himself, and that his 
proffered tune was politely refused by his 
Just look at No. 2i. Did ever you see 
anything better than this picture, looking at 
it as a piece of black-and-white art, apart 
from its value as a first-rate joke ? See how 

■ 34+— BY TKSMKI-, tSSi. 

this marvellous Charles Keene gives the 
houses in the background, and the foliage of 
the trees, the lights of the picture, and then 
the two men : just look at them ! Charles 
Keene had a magic hand, trained by years 
of technical study, and guided by his own 
great genius. 

We pass Nos. 22 and 23, by Keene, noting 
the excellence of characterization in them j 
and in No, 24, published July 29, 1882, we 
see a fine Trnniel that sums up the Anglo- 

"On ThS Aif.kt." — Parson 
towttrJi your ftieighbourf " 
Sharp Boy. " To Keep your Eye on 'im. Sir * " 

7J+ — flV CUAKLRS KKhSK, lB3s+ 

by Google 

35. — KV HAHHV FUkKi&S, 16*64, 

Original from 



French position at that date as regards 
the Egyptian question. The British 
bluejacket's big nonchalance to the 
proposal of the dapper Frenchman— 
a proposal that we have consistently 
brushed aside since 1 88 a — is admir- 
ably put by Tenniel into the face 
and attitude of the burly sailor who 
is lighting his pipe after the bom- 
bardment of Alexandria. 

No. 25 is Harry Furniss's original 
of the picture which later became 
the famous soap - advertisement so 
well known to all of us. 

Another splendid Tenniel cartoon 
in No, 26 illustrates the distressful 
condition of France's home affairs in 
1883, a condition which has been 

i mk Impending CHIMAM AM. — Poticcma n i who had beta ivhtstling datvn 
this Area (di the Morning)* ** Ullo ! What are ygu doing 'ere f Is the 

Cook in? " 

Chinaman (Mandiy), li Me am Cooke y ! " 

I" Vou wight have knocked him dawn with a Peacock's Feather f" he 

r ard.] 37. — BY CHAflLES K£ENE, x8&Z. 



Chinese pigeon - English, " Me am 
Coo key ! " This picture. No, 27, by 
Charles Keene is in PuncNs Almanac^ 
December 7, 1882- The contrast 
between the bobby's Uken-abaek face 
and the bland composure of the 
Chinaman is worth looking into. 

In No, zS, examine Keene's drawing 
of the Reduced Party who "did not 
specify the coin J ' — is it not a wonder- 
ful piece of work? Despite the rags 
and tatters you can see that this 
crossing- sweeper is really a reduced 
man who has seen better days, not an 
ordinary street-sweeper of the lower 
class, and the half- wistful, half-try-it-on 

26. — BY TENNIEL, I SB J. 

going from bad to worse since then t and this 
cartoon might well stand as a picture of France's 
condition to-day— she does indeed need a quick, 
strong Perseus to save her from her fate. 

Imagine the policeman's shock of disgust when, 
in response to his repeated signals down the area, 
the new cook appeared with the bland remark in 

by Google 

" PuuH Sweefar, Sir \ "—Btnexwient St*viter {feeting 
in his pockets). "I'm afraid I hiren't a Penny * 

Reduced Party {wistfully}* "1 did not specify the 
Coin, Sa.r ! " [ft came to Sixpence .'] 

, i: -. — BV CHAKL&S Kl.l-.M-l, ir/zi,. 

Original from 




being that du Maurier loved beauty of face 
and form so much that he put a plenty of both 
into his charming pictures, And all of us like 
to sec luvuyfjivs. Hut. (L- spite his great talent 
and his popularity, du Maimer's work cannot 
be compared with that of Charles Keene ; 
du Maurier himself has told us in his 
charming little book, "Social Pictorial Satire, t? 
41 with all my admiration for Leech 3 it was at 
the feet of Charles Keene that I found myself 
sitting." And du Maurier also says about 
Charles Keene's way of using lines to get his 
effects : — 

WJ-. — BY TENSIF1. ; AfKlL 30, lfl8l. 

expression of the man's face and attitude is 
most vividly rendered. The man's mouth, 
done by practically a single line, shows that 
his own sense ot humour is tickled by the neat 
suggestiveness of his reply to the passer-by 
who says, " I'm afraid I haven't a Penny " 

The next cartoon, No. 29, is Tenniel's 
tribute to the memory of Lord Beaconsfield, 
who died on April 19, 1881. The conception 
of this picture is most dignified and simple, 
the figure of Bri- 
tannia is beautiful, 
and with the pic- 
ture arc included 
these words, 
"Peace with 
Honour," which 
will always be 
linked, and justly 
linked, with the 
name of Benjamin 
Disraeli, Earl of 

Now we have 
two of du Man- 
ner's pictures, 
Nos. 30 and jr, 
His work is nearly 
always pleasing, 
one reason of this 

HfrLAHii ik Mid-Atlantic.— Tkt Hiih&p (st-vrrr/rj. "When 
/ your age, my young Friend, it was not OHi-jJered C»>d 
M:L!i-iir-. fur Liu It Hoj"K to join in I he Conversation of timwn- 
up People, unless they were invilcil tod<i wj." 

Small Amrrican, K ' i Jncss tl^r was Seventy or Eighty Year?, 


We've changed all that, yau bet ! " 

30. — b¥ DU MAIRCER, 1.88 J. 

Ome Mo he U « F is RT u n at E. — Ma mma (a Wid&v of CMttidtra&U 
jt*rjpm*J attractions}. " 1 want so tell you something, Tommy. You saw 
that Gentleman talking to Grandmamma in ihu other room. Well, he is 
goinj; to be your ntw J** pa. Mamma' * going to Marry him \ " 

Tommy iwhv ttcotitttx something of ike lift his old Papa ustd U lead). 
11 T>-d-does he krnnv it yet, Mamma? " 

31, — I! Y DU MACRJEK, lSSj. 

I ihinfc K cent's is 
the firmest, loosest, 
simplest, and I jest 
way that ever wns. 
and — the most diffi- 
cult lo imitate. His 
mere pen - strokes 
have, for the expert, 
a beamy and an in- 
terest quite apart 
from the thing they 
are made to depict, 
whether he uses the in 
as mere outlines to 
express the shape of 
things animate or in- 
animate, even such 
shapeless, irregular 
things as the stones 
on a sea -beach — or 
in com hi nation to 
suggest the tone and 
colour of a dress- 
coat, or a drunkard's 

by Google 

Original from 



nose, of a cab or omnibus — of a distant 
mountain with miles of atmosphere between 
it and the figures in the foreground. 

His lines are as few as can be — be is most 
economical in ihis respect, and loves to 

u T H fi K ft' S A LTV A VS A Si>M ET K I Nti* y '—N&vtdt*cript. 
" Yer like yer noo Business, don't yer* Erree ? " 

jVfo/t. ** Tottol ! It's a Profession that 'as its 
Draw hacks, mind yer + For instance (betwixt Ytti 
and I), there's so few Crxihwun in it 1 * 
33*— BY PU UAliKlEIL, 1SS4* 

leave as much white paper as he can ; but 
one feels in his liesl work that one line 
more or one line less would impair the per- 
fection of the w r hole — lhat of all the many 
directions, curves, and thicknesses they 
might have taken he has inevitably hit upon 
just the right one, lie has l*ealen all pre- 
vious records in ihis respect — in this country^ a t least. 
I heard a celebrated French painter say: '* He is a 
great man, your Charles Keene ; he take a pen and ink 
and a bit of paper, and wiz :i half-dozen strokes he 
know 'ow to frame a (just of wind I " 

Ah I the great French painter summed up 
Charles Keene's genius in his words li and 
wiz a half-dozen strokes he know 'ow to 
frame a gust of wind! 3 ' As soon as one 


MUSTEK J-WmSlfc, D0»T 00 WOftHriTIM TEB3KLT flfffl T£*T ■ GGTrTU* FDZXLE ' 

just wee mi a Ktct urne ranrar iTEjBrtnjm^* 

J4- — BY TEN KIEL, lS&4- 

begins to look at Keene's pictures, withoti 
wanting mere prettiness or fun (althougl 
there is a plenty of fun in them), they opei 
out to us in a most delightful and surprising 

1 Au'se war'nt 

Conclusions \— Pitman (to Dignitary &/' the Cttvrch}, 
ye're a Poor Curate , noo, l ravelin' wi' the likes o' huz I " 

Biskafi hvhi> tAittks it right tt> travel Third C/aii oceaswnaify)* " I oune 
was, my Friend— but " 

Pitman (MHtjtessJMtAh'ty). " Ah !— I «e— that wretched Drink ! " 

j>— SV ChARLkii KEENE, 1S84. [Ejef&tMatMMM f\ m 

by LiOOglC 

Dignitv in DtsTMSSs.—JVntmk Hatter fwiih 
vtty limited kn&tttftdgr vf English^ to Angiica 
Bisktfa wA«v Hat hajjmt foe* Mown away in, 
the Sat), Xi Cummer ca vqus vm. bien I Jlooiifcwc>J t m 

Boy!" 35* — KV DU MAURI ER : X884. 

Original from 




way to gratify our intelligence, rather 
than merely to please our sense of 
personal beauty* The more one 
looks at Keene's work, the more one 
finds in it to admire and to satisfy our 
sense of intelligent interest in seeing 
the many wonderful effects that his 
pictures contain. 

Pictures 32 and 33 bring us to 
Tcnnid's suggestive cartoon, " Dis- 
traction ! !" — No, 34, This was pub- 
lished March 8, 1884, when the 
country was getting uneasy about {he 
Soudan, General Gordon having gone 
on his last special mission to Khar- 
toum in January 1884 — and \fr. 

True Mudesty,— Mr. Spinks. Hl I had sudi s beautiful 
Di-tajit Jast niRht, Miss Brigs*! I thought 1 was in the 
Garden of Eden — — " 

Miss Bng£s (tvitk simplicity). "And did Eve appear 
as she U generally represented, Mr. Spink-.''" 

Mr. S finks. u 1—1— I— I didn't Look \ " 

^6. — BY DU MAURIEU, 1864. 

Gladstone, to distract little Johnnie 
Bull's attention from the Soudan 
Puzzle, offered him a Franchise-Bill- 
Toy worked with real strings that pull 
the bumpkin-voter this way and that ! 
Glancing at Nos, 35 and 36, we 
come to the magnificent Tenniel- 
cartoon, " Mirage" — No. 37. This 
was published April 12, 1884. General 
Gordon stands on the wall of Khar- 
toum and shades his eyes to see what 
it is that comes up in the distance — 
the quick gleam of English steely or 
the mocking mirage of the wilder- 
ness ! Alas ! it was but a mocking 

37.— bY jilNniel. ; Ai'itiL i^ N 18*14. 

pictured on the misty horizon at which Gordon 
is anxiously gazing. 

Pictures 38 and 39 are two fine Keenes. In 
No- 38 the extraordinary vividness of the bult- 
chaaed-old-man incident must strike the most 
casual observer, and notice also how deftly Keene 

mirage that Gordon saw in that far-off 
array which Tenniel has so well 

" fits Fohcot ! "—Old Gentleman ike had been chased mcrvw the 
Field by the infuriated Animal^ attd a-nly just scrambled wer the Gate i« 
t imr ^gasping J&r breath), "You in-fernal un-gra'ful Rrsist ! — An' 
been Veg'tanan allmlife 1 1™_ . . 38.-7DV charl^ Jl^ne, 1B34, 

Original from 



Lord Salisbury, as the Giant, peers over 
the battlement of his castle— the House of 
Lords— at the small "Bill" (Mr. Gladstone's 
"popular" Franchise Bill) which has just 
been sent up to the House of Lords. 

"Ckm i.k PjutttiSH Pas/' Etc, — Husband (mfrifc tkty 
hfid^ust rctumtzf J'r&m thtir Wtdding Tripy, li [f I'm not 
Home from th^Cluh by — ah — Ten, Love, you won't wait " 

Wiftiquitifyj. "No, Dear"— (but with a£ f<t iling Jirmw ss} 
— ll 1 11 Come for you J ! r [//«r was back at $.4$ shay/*. ] 

39. — llV CHARLES KgKNB, 1684, 

has given the idea of distant? to the other 
side of the big field across which the panting 
old man has just run. Then, again, there is 
most masterly management of light and 
shade here, and the old man and the bull 
are actually alive. 

Pleasant for 
the newly - mar- 
ried man in No, 
39, is it not ? 

The cartoon in 
No. 40, published 
November 22, 
] 884, was accom- 
panied in Punch 
by verses that 
commenced with 
two lines from 
14 Jack the Giant- 
Killer' 1 :— 

Whoever dares this 

hern t$ bt<nv 
Shall wreak the 

Gia nfs avert h row t 

1mj j xac nuAiu.r. Judge fta H'stora). " keprcu ihc Prisoner's btatement 
to you, exactly in his own Wi rda, Mow, what did lie say ? rt 

Wihun* ' l My Load, he said he stole the Pig " 

Judge. ,+ Impossible \ He ecu id n't have used the Third Person/' 

tfittwss. Jl My Lor I. there was no Third Person ! " 
Judge, u Nonaense ! 1 fttppose you memn thai he satdi ' J stole the Pig H ] " 

If'itfuji fsk&ckrtl}. ,4 Oh, my Lord ! He never mentioned your Lordships 


40, — BY TKNNJIiL, 

Negotiations took place between G lad- 
stone's Government and the Opposition, with 

the result that 
this "Bill" was 
ultimately ad- 
mitted into the 
Giant's Castle 
and duly made 
into Liw — with- 
out the disas- 
trous effects that 
were foretold by 
some of the 

No + 41 is our 
concluding bonrn- 
bouche for this 
month, Charles 
Keene has given 
the stupid witness 
a stupid thumb. 

by Google 

(Po bt continued.) 

Original from 

By Robert Barr, 

£1 Wi 

QUITE agree with the literary 
critics in their opinion that 
the recently - published bio- 
graphy of Howard Carruth is 
a well-written book. I have 
perused the volume myself 
with both pleasure and profit talented 
works of fiction have always interested me, 
and I admit that the book forms, as some of 
the papers have said, a noble and stirring ex- 
ample to those who are young and ambitious, 
as going to show to what eminence a man 
may attain by dogged perseverance in the 
face of difficulty, when united with the 
talents which we all admit Howard Carruth 

The biographer, Mr. James Gourley (it 
seems odd to see his name on the title-page 
as "James," for I never knew anybody who 
did not rail him ll Jim"), was a talented 
newspaper man ; an expert in graphic 
writing ; yet no one knows better than he 
that Howard Carruth's rise to fame is not to 
be attributed entirely to his mental qualities ; 
but rather lu his musde than his mind, I 
do not allude to the well remembered nobility 

Copyright, 1699, by Robert 


of Howard Carruth's presence on the stage ■ 
he was an ideal Hamlei^ a picturesque 
Richelieu^ and a most subtle fag&. What I 
referred to was rather his physical prowess, 
and that is touched upon but once in the 
biography where, on page 67, the reader will 
find some slight allusion to his strength. 

Of course w;e now can never know, as 
Gourley and Carruth are both gone (Jim 
did not live to see the last proofs of his book 
through the press, which is a fact to be 
deplored, because no one would have enjoyed 
its success better than Jim, attributing it, no 
doubt, to the popularity of the actor rather 
than to his own picturesque style of writing, 
for such was the modesty of this clever artist in 
words); in the circumstances, as I was about 
to say, no one can know why Jim suppressed 
what seems to be so interesting a chapter in 
the life of Howard Carruth, for he well knew 
its value as a picturesque episode, none better, 
and the fact that he did not use it when he 
might well have done so, Canuth being dead, 
indicates that the great actor forbade him to 
touch upon this phase of his ljfe, and that 
Jim loyally respected the request, 
in the United St#ik|£fcG^f PMMttf&Q m 




Jim says in his introduction to the book 
that he first met the actor in Syracuse, New 
York. This statement is rather a play on 
words. He first met the actor there, no 
doubt, and first knew him there as Howard 
Carruth ; but years before he had encountered 
the same person under his real name, at a 
time when he was connected with the stage, 
and yet no actor. I cannot set down the 
particulars in the vivid language Jim Gourley 
would have used, making the scene live 
again before the reader's eyes ; but I must 
just do the best I can, acting as reporter for 
Jim's own words, for he was even more bril- 
liant as a raconteur than as a writer ; a com- 
bination seldom found. Indeed, if I were 
to turn biographer, as Jim did in the latter 
years of his life, the setting down of his 
sayings and doings would be more attractive 
to me than recounting the deeds and suc- 
cesses of even the greatest actor in the 

Jim was too brilliant and talented to be 
successful ; others reaped the benefit of his 
genius, and wondered why he touched the 
very skirts of great success only to have 
them whisked away from him. He had 
laboured on nearly all the noted papers 
from San Francisco to New York, yet never 
kept a place for long. There must have 
been a strain of gipsy blood in Jim's veins, 
for he was ever on the move. Jim was 
almost always sure of a job on any paper to 
whose city editor he applied ; for, although 
he never attained the celebrity various 
funny men of the Press achieved, his work 
was nevertheless known throughout the 
States, and many newspaper men consider 
that his terse account of the all-night 
wrestling match in Morgan's Hall, San 
Francisco, was one of the most brilliant 
pieces of writing that had ever been done 
into type by a newspaper compositor. Jim 
was now in New Orleans and now in 
Omaha, now in New York and now in 
Cincinnati ; you never knew exactly where 
to find him, and you ran up against him in 
the most unexpected places. He told me 
once that a letter addressed "Jim Gourley, 
on some paper or other," ran him down at 
Spokane Falls, to the honour and glory of 
the United States postal department. 

" My name is Jim Gourley," he said to the 
city editor, " of no place in particular, and 
I can do mostly anything on a news- 
paper, from cleaning rollers down to writing 

" I guess we've got a letter for you, Mr. 
Gcurley," replied the city editor, fishirg it 

Vol, xviii.— 27. 

Digitized by L^OOgle 

out. " It dropped in unexpectedly to-day, 
and, from the appearance of it, has been 
everywhere else in creation." 

Jim had started several papers of his own, 
mostly weekly society sheets, but when they 
lived, they lived to profit somebody else, and 
when they died, they always died on Jim's 
hands. A cheerful, uncomplaining fellow, 
optimistic as a Western town, a fascinating 
story-teller, ever ready to drop whatever he 
was at if he could push forward a helping 
hand to a friend, or even to an enemy, it 
made little difference to Jim, always positive 
that he was just on the verge of a great 
success, and always letting go too soon or 
holding on too long. And now, to think 
that he has died and left a book that is 
in its fourteenth edition ! With not a soul 
to whom the rich publisher can pay the 
ever-accumulating royalties; for Jim, the 
friend of everyone, had no known relatives 
on earth, which seems an irony of fate. 
But, as I said at the beginning, it was not 
about Jim Gourley that I intended to write, 
although I find myself drifting in that direc- 
tion. I am well aware that the friends of 
Howard Carruth will claim that the success 
of the biography rises through public interest 
in the great actor, but I very much doubt 
if such is the case. The volume itself is 
absorbingly interesting ; indeed, Jim Gourley 
could not have written of a microbe without 
imbuing it with everything that is human 
and lovable. 

Among other interests that Jim had taken 
up in his varied career was, of course, the 
theatrical profession. His acquaintance with 
newspaper men was so extensive that naturally 
he made an excellent advance agent, and 
often he held forth in some newspaper office 
the brilliant prospects of a troupe that had 
already gone on the rocks behind him, for it 
was always Jim's luck to be associated with 
some company approaching its break-up. 

One evening Jim was in the office of a 
Syracuse paper seeking a job when there was 
no- vacancy, and he had worked off his latest 
stories on the dramatic critic, always a 
dangerous man on whom to experiment, for 
the dramatic critic hears everything that is 
fresh if anyone on the staff does, when finally 
this gentleman said he had to go to the 
theatre, and he invited Jim to come along 
with him. Howard Carruth was to appear 
as Hamlet, and the critic held that Carruth 
was a coming man, although he admitted 
sorrowfully that he had been a mighty long 
time on the way, for the public did not 
appear to take to the " legitimate." There 




was a very scant audience, and the critic 
stayed but a short time, as was his custom, 
for he had often seen Carruth in that part 
and his critique was already written^ even to 
the phrase, " a small hut discriminating 
audience"; a phrase which is the horror 
of the box office, Jim, however, stayed on 
in the theatre, to the critic's amazement, for 
he had admitted when they set out that 
Hamlet was not enough up-to-date to suit 
him. It was not that Hamlet had awakened 
new appreciation in Jim's mind, but because 
from the moment the actor came on the 
stage Jim was haunted by an idea which he 
could not drive into a corner — an idea which 
would not accept any definite locality — that 
somewhere, and in exceptional circumstances, 
he had met this man, Carruth, before. When 
the critic left his place in the circle, Jim, 
between the acts, moved down to one of the 
empty seats next to the orchestra to study 
the man more closely and arrive at some 
solution of the problem. He tried his idea 
in juxtaposition with Washington, Boston, 
Chicago, Salt Lake City— but it would fit 
into none of those places. All at once a 
quick movement of Hamkt as he was talking 
with his mother flashed like a lime -light 
through Jim's remembrance, and illuminated 
Morgan's Hall, in San Francisco, twenty years 
before. As Hamkt turned to kill the unfor- 
tunate, inopportune Polonium Jim, absorbed in 
his thought and unconscious that he spoke 
aloud, cried : " No, you don't ! " and Hamkt 
nearly dropped his sword, drawing in his breath 
with a gasp. The actor darted 
one quick, apprehensive look 
over the slender audience, 
then pulled himself heroic- 
ally together and went on 
with his work. 

Jim gazed steadily at the 
play, but saw little of it, living 
again in the years gone by. 
He recognised Howard Car- 
ruth as Nick Bingley, the 
champion wrestler of America, 
if not of the world, then in 
the first flush of his youth, 
skilful and irresistible, the 
holder of the diamond belt, 
which no living man seemed 
able to wrest from him. At 
San Francisco there had lived 
a powerful butcher, Pete 
McGorkal, who, it was said, 
could knock down an ox 
with his fist ; but then they 
say that of every strong man, 

although, probably^ few oxen have come 
to their death in this way, Pete was a 
good-natured giant, who could throw any 
man in California over his head, and his 
confident friends sent a challenge to young 
Nick Bingley, the champion of that form of 
contest. The manager of Morgan's Hall 
saw money in the arousing of local interest, 
so he himself gave the requisite guarantee, 
entered into negotiations with Nick Bingley's 
agent, and found his confidence justified by 
the assembling of a greater audience at five 
dollars a head than the most noted genius 
of the world could have collected at fifty 
cents. Instead of King and Queen and 
Prince, which Jinvs physical eyes seemed to 
behold, his mental vision saw before him, 
confronting each other, two splendid speci- 
mens of stalwart, healthy manhood : Nick 
Bingley, much the smaller, but a well-knit, 
well-proportioned man ; the butcher stood a 
Hercules, simply radiating power. It was skill 
and considerable strength opposed to appa- 
rently irresistible force, lacking the skill. The 
knowing ones made their bets on skill, but the 
great majority of the local crowd plumped 
their money on brute force, and brute force 
stood upon the stage confident in his strength. 

by Google 


Original from 



I know so little of this game that I cannot 
tell the particular brand of wrestling under 
which the contestants met, but each was 
dressed in tights, and each wore a very short, 
stout jacket. After the two gladiators had 
shaken hands, each grasped the other by the 
collar of the jacket, and thus they stood for 
a moment, braced one against the other. To 
the non-professional, it seemed foolish for an 
ordinary - sized man like Nick Bingley to 
hope to wage a contest with a giant like Pete 
McGorkal. There had been wild acclama- 
tion when Pete came upon the stage, but now 
the great audience was breathless, and in the 
silence you might almost hear the ticking of a 
watch. Nick slowly but strenuously pushed 
the giant away from him, and the giant 
pushed back, his great, sturdy legs, wide- 
spread, not giving an inch ; then, suddenly, 
like a stroke of lightning, the champion 
reversed his action, the steady push of the 
butcher assisting in his own discomfiture. 
Bingley pulled McGorkal towards himself, 
whisked him round, and there on his back, 
both shoulder-blades palpably on the floor 
according to the rules of the game, lay the 
startled butcher, the champion springing 
nimbly back from him and the umpire cry- 
ing : " First fall for Nick Bingley. Time, 
3 1 sec." 

For one tense moment the silence con- 
tinued, then there rose from the audience a 
roar as from a wild beast when they saw 
their chances of gain vanish. 

" What's the matter with you ? Can't you 
stand on your feet ? " came the angry shouts 
from the butcher's backers. The butcher 
got up dazed and dismayed, and drew a huge, 
trembling hand across a perplexed brow. 
Silence was only restored when the com- 
batants faced each other again. Whether 
the butcher adhered to the rules of the game 
or not I don't know, but probably, if he 
didn't, the umpire would have made some 
endeavour to check him, but the umpire had 
all he could do to keep out of the way. The 
infuriated man rushed at his antagonist, who 
eluded him like an eel. It was the opinion 
of everyone there that once the butcher got 
hands on his opponent he would crush him 
to the floor by main strength. But this was 
not the case. Once, indeed, Bingley was 
caught in that gigantic grasp, and McGorkal 
flung him over his head as if he were a two- 
year-old infant, but the champion turned in 
the air as an acrobat revolves when dropping 
from a trapeze, landing like a cat on his feet, 
and on the next onslaught of the man of 
strength, Bingley exactly repeated the 

by V_ 



tactics of the first round. He sprang 
aside, then with incredible nimbleness he 
darted in at his opponent, seized him by his 
jacket, and again using the butcher's own 
momentum, gave a sharp twist and a jerk, 
and once more the shoulder-blades of his 
antagonist coincided with the floor. 

" Second fall ! Best two out of three, and 
the contest goes to Nick Bingley ! Time, 2min. 
i4sec. ! "shouted the umpire. Was this what 
the crowd had paid its five dollars to see? 
Best two out of three — and the whole thing 
over in less than five minutes ! The butcher 
had sold them like a herd of his own steers. 
They had been betrayed ! Then for a 
moment the manager of Morgan's feared he 
had made a bad bargain, and his speculation 
would result in the destruction of his property 
by the maddened mob. Cries of " Sold ! 
sold ! sold ! " rang through the immense 

At this critical moment there rose from 
the front and climbed leisurely on the stage 
the one cool man in the place, a tall, spare 
individual, clear-cut, clean-shaven, vulpine- 
faced, with eyes of steel, well known in San 
Francisco as the gamest man and most 
daring gambler even in that city. He was a 
man universally respected, who won imper- 
turbably, lost calmly, shot straight, and his 
word was held as good as most men's bonds. 
He stood on the stage and looked at the 
seething crowd for a moment, then held up 
his hand, and everyone paused to listen. 

" Gentlemen," he said, "you are entirely 
mistaken in thinking this contest was sold, 
and I say this in spite of the fact that I have 
backed the winning man, for I always back 
the professional against the amateur when I 
know the contest is straight. I have seen 
in my time many hundreds of affairs like 
this, a number of which I knew to 
be sold before they began, and I give you 
my word that if any arrangement had been 
made between Mr. McGorkal and Mr. Bingley 
you would have had full value for your 
money in the exhibition of wrestling you 
would have seen. It wouldn't have been 
over in five minutes ; you would have had a 
couple of hours of the toughest struggling 
you ever witnessed ; and, although you would 
have lost your money just the same, you 
would all have gone home with the impression 
that but for a bit of ill-luck your man would 
have won. You may wreck this hall if you 
want to ; it doesn't matter a button to me, 
for I don't own a bench or a chair in it, 
and besides, I am going to leave the place by 
the stage door ; but I should be sorry to see 




so much exertion wasted and the police called 
in upon an entirely erroneous impression on 
your part. I haven't the pleasure of Mr. 
McGorlcal's acquaintance, but nevertheless I 
give you my word that he didn't sell you: he 
did the best he could, and had just as much 
chance from the beginning as one of you 
with a club would have against me with a 
six-shooter, and you know what that means. 
Gentlemen, good-night ! IT 

These words had the effect of a douche of 
cold water. The crowd dimly recognised 
their truth, hasty action was reconsidered, 
and thus Morgan's Hall was not wrecked on 
that occasion. Jim Gourley reported this 
episode in his vivid, picturesque manner, 
and the account made a sensation in San 
Francisco next day. The sudden defeat of 
the butcher by an outsider seemed to touch 
the local pride of San Francisco, and a 
number of men put up a certain amount of 
money which they bestowed upon McGorkal 
under the condition that he would take 
lessons in wrestling and again challenge the 
champion* This celebrated contest was the 
all-night wrestle to which I have referred ; it 
ended in a draw, 
both men ex- 
hausted when the 
grey daylight 
forced its way into 
Morgan's HalL 
Every time Nick 
Bingley tried one 
of his professional 
tricks on the 
butcher, the latter 
roared out, like 
one of his own 
'bulls, "No, you 
don't I * — if we 
can imagine a bull 
to use that phrase 
—and every time 
the accents of 
" No, you don't ! " 
rolled through 
the hall the accla- 
mations of the 
butcher's partisans 
rose to the roof, 
Through all that 
long night neither 
man achieved a 

fall. Sometimes, indeed, the brute passions 
of the athletes became apparent, but this 
did not allow either of them to master the 

Towards morning it was evident that both 

men were completely done out, but the 
indomitable spirit of each would not permit 
either to succumb. In the last grapple both 
men fell clinched on the stage, and it was 
apparent that if one had an atom of strength 
remaining he might turn the other over on 
his back and win the contest, but neither 
man had an ounce of wrestle left in him, and 
each had to be helped to his feet by his 
seconds. Jim Gourley, as spry as a cricket, 
in spite of the lateness of the hour, thinking 
only of his paper and of when the contest 
would be renewed, endeavoured to interview 
each man. He found the butcher lying on 
a sofa in one of the dressing-rooms, and all 
he could gasp w T as : — 

" He's a good man a mighty good man." 

The champion sat in a chair in another 
room, being fanned with an outspread towel, 
evidently in a state of collapse, His eyes 
were closed, his mouth open, and he drew in 
his breath mechanically at long intervals, 

" He'll be all right in a minute, Jim," said 
the manager, " It's no use questioning him ; 
he can't talk to you now." 

"No, you don't," said Bingley, in a feeble 

' tN A STATE OS-" Cftl.LAPSK. 

by t^ 



whisper, a faint smile on his lips as he opened 
his eyes, repeating the phrase his opponent 
had so often made use of, and which had 
thus become the cant sentence of the night 
M Newspaper man ? " inquired Nick 

Original from 



Bingley. " What is it you want to know ? I 
can talk, if you give me a sip of something." 

" Not just now," said the manager. 

" When do you think you'll be in shape to 
meet him again ? " persisted Jim. 

The wrestler shook his head. 

" I shall never meet him. This ends my 

" Nonsense," said Jim, " your nerve has 
gone for the moment, and no wonder, but it 
will be all right again after a day or two. 
Why, you are not going to give up the 
diamond belt ? " 

Again the wrestler smiled faintly and 
shook his head. 

"He can have the belt," he said, "for all 
of me. He's a good man ; the best man I 
ever met, and I never want to meet such 

When these reminiscences had finished 
percolating through Jim Gourley's mind, the 
drama on the stage before him had ended, 
and the few dozens of people in the audi- 
torium were making their way slowly out 
into the street. Jim, however, did not 
follow the crowd. He knew his way as 
instinctively in a strange theatre as in a 
strange newspaper office, so passing round 
and opening a forbidden door, he found 
himself behind the scenes, and, with un- 
erring instinct, brought up at the star 
dressing-room. Here he found Howard 
Carruth sitting in an arm-chair, in much the 
same attitude that he had left him years 
before in Morgan's Hall, San Francisco. It 
was the pose of a tired and deeply dis- 
appointed man — not thrown yet, but weary, 
weary of the game. Why endeavour to play 
Hamlet to a generation that wanted real 
waterfalls, blue fire, and crimson lime-light 
varied with horse-play ? The times were out 
of joint indeed. The actor raised his languid 
eyes as Jim entered and closed the door 
behind him. 

" Well, Nick Bingley," said the incomer. 

The same wan smile wreathed the lips of 
Hamlet that had greeted Jim from the 
wrestler's face on the morning that ended the 
great but inconclusive contest. 

"So you are the man who flung the 
butcher's phrase at me to-night," said the 
actor. " You saw me, I take it, enacting a 
different role in San Francisco ? " 

"Yes," said Jim, brightly, "also a tragedy, 
but with more money in the house." 

"Alas, yes," murmured Carruth, dolefully. 
" But am I so little changed that you recog- 
nise me even in this make-up?" 

"It was a motion of your shoulders that I 

by Google 

knew, not your face. Your face, if you will 
forgive me saying so, is much more refined 
than it was when you were a wrestler." 

"Thank you," replied Carruth, without 
enthusiasm. " But in recognising me you 
have shown yourself to have a better memory 
than I. Were you one of the audience that 
night ? " 

" I was the reporter who interviewed you 
just after the struggle. It was to me you 
said that you would never wrestle again." 

" Ah, I said that to you, did I ? Well, I 
was wofully wrong. I have been doing 
nothing but wrestle ever since, and with 
even a more implacable opponent than the 
butcher ; wrestling with bitter ill-luck. I am 
near the end of my tether, so, perhaps, you 
have come in time to hear me say that I 
will give up acting, as before I told you I 
was going to give up wrestling." 

" No," said Jim, " I am out of the news- 
paper business, and such an item would now 
be of no use to me. I have come instead 
to beg the position of your advance agent." 

" Advance agent ? " said Girruth, dreamily. 
" Yes, I suppose some actors do possess 
such a luxury, but I have none, nor can I 
afford one. Really, I do not need "an advance 
agent ; the newspapers have always been very 
kind to me, and I have sheaves of apprecia- 
tive notices. I don't know exactly what it is 
I lack, but certainly not an advance agent." 

"There's where you are wrong," cried Jim, 
enthusiastically. " Now let me tell you my 
qualifications for the position. I don't sup- 
pose there's a man " 

" Pardon me," interrupted Carruth, * " but 
let me tell you of one disqualification on my 
part which will far overtop all your advan- 
tages, whatever they may be. It is simply 
this, that I have not the money to pay you. 
You saw the audience I had to-night. Well, 
there's your answer." 

" As a matter of fact, that's no answer at 
all, Mr. Carruth. Of course I never have 
any money of my own, and so I shall need a 
little something to square up hotel bills, but 
even that I could get along without if it were 
necessary, for I think I could work my way 
from here to San Francisco and live in luxury 
all the time. The hotel men all know me, 
and they know I'll get them the money from 
somewhere or other — even if I didn't they 
wouldn't mind ; they're all good fellows. 
Now, you are the greatest actor I ever saw, 
small audience or not, and if you'll tell me 
the biggest house you ever had, 111 draw my 
pay on the basis of a percentage over that, 
which percentage I leave you to name. The 


a i 4 


plain, bald fact is, that you are badly 
managed, Mr. Carruth, and I propose to 
manage you well" 

M Your terms are certainly reasonable, but 
there are still obstacles in the way. In the 
first place, I am the head of a Shakespearean 
combination, such as it is, and I am not going 
to take on any new and popular dramas, even 
if there is money in them. I am going to 
succeed or go under as a Shakespearean actor,' 1 

"Oh, certainly, certainly," replied Jim, 
buoyantly. "If you think I am going to 
interfere with you in any way you will soon 
see your mistake. You can stick to Shake 
all right enough ; I believe there is money in 
the old man yet" 

" Then, another thing," continued the 
actor, with a smile. " I am not going to 
descend into popular advertising. This is 
the Howard Carruth Company, and not 
Itanium's Circus, T> 

** I quite understand that, and nothing 
will be done that you can object to; still, I 
should like to have a little influence in the 
arranging of the plays." 

" Ah," said the actor, freezing up again. 

"I see you don't like that, but, neverthe- 
less I submit that great as * Hamlet ' 
undoubtedly is, it isn't what you would call 
a cheerful play," 

"No, I suppose not." 

u There is too much slaughter 
and too much gloom about it, A 
tired business man when he comes 
lo the theatre wants something to 
liven him up a bit, therefore he 
goes to the Daisy Dearie Comedy 
Company and takes his wife with 
him T or, if he is alone or with a 
friend, to the Variety Theatre, 
Now, I propose that we leave 
1 Hamlet ' till Saturday night, when 
the business man has Sunday to 
recover. We can oj>en in each 
town with 'As You Like It. J You 
wouldn't have any objection to that, 
would you, Mr. Carruth?" 

" ( Hi, nor 

" Very well, then, that is settled. 
Do you cam - a wrestler with you, 
or do you take a super from whatever 
town you are in ? ,J 

** We take a super, but I am not going 
to change * As You like It ' into a 
wrestling match, you know/ 1 

H Of course not, of course not," said 
Jim, soothingly. "Where do you open 
next Monday when you are through with 
Syracuse ? " 

41 In Rochester, after that in Buffalo, and 
then Cleveland, Toledo, and Detroit, and so 
on to the West, if we hold together." 

14 Then that settles it," said Jim, "and Fm 
off to Rochester early to-morrow morning, 
and well see what sort of a house we can 
get up for you by Monday night." 

The actor smiled sorrowfully on Jim as he 
shook hands with him, and after the enthu- 
siastic young man had gone, remembered 
that he did not even know his name. 

When Gourley entered the office of one of 
the Rochester daily papers it was not to the 
dramatic critic that he presented himself, bur 
to the sporting editor, a rakish-looking young 
man, who wore his hat well to the back of 
his head, and smoked a corn-cob pipe* 

" Halloa, Billy," said Jim, 

" Halloa, Jim," said Billy- " Where'd you 
spring from ? Coming on the paper again ? " 

"No," replied Jim. M I'm advance agent 
for the Howard Carruth travelling combina- 
tion. We open here Monday night," 

"Oh, Carruth 's no good, is he; doesn't 

" Not very much," admitted Jim, "The 
truth is, I haven't had a cent of salary from 
him since I began with him." 

"Then why don't you throw him down 

by Google 


Original from 



and join the staff of this paper? The old 
man would give you a place." 

" It's just about throwing it down that I 
wanted to see you. The truth is, I want to 
put up a little job on Howard Carruth, who 
is a proud, distant, haughty beggar. You'd 
think he owned the earth, and yet he can't 
draw a twenty-dollar house." 

" Well, what's your game ? " asked the 
sporting editor, always on the alert for any- 
thing new. 

" You see, Carruth opens here in * As You 
Like It,' and in the beginning of this play 
there is a wrestling scene, you know." 

" I didn't know," answered the sporting 

" Well, there is, just the same. Of course, 
Carruth is an actor, of a sort, and he doesn't 
know anything about wrestling, so it's usually 
a pretty poor scene. The super comes up, 
Orlando clinches him, turns him over gently, 
and on to the floor with him, like putting a 
baby to sleep. Now, the troupe doesn't 
carry a wrestler with them; so I've got to 
hire one in every town we go to, and I wish 
you could put me on to a real good, rough- 
and-tumble wrestler here in Rochester, who 
would simply throw Carruth over his head 
and paralyze the play. It would be great fun 
for the audience, even though it would sur- 
prise old Shakespeare." 

"It would that," replied the sporting 
editor, "and Tommy Sloan's your man. He 
can throw his weight in wild cats. Let's go 
down to Micky Doolan's saloon and see if 
we can find him." 

The ifyo went together to the saloon of 
Micky Doolan, and picked up three or four 
congenial spirits on the way, to whom the 
plot was confidentially disclosed. Tommy 
Sloan was not at Micky Doolan's, but a 
number of others were there, one of whom 
received the sporting editor's eulogy of Sloan 
with scorn. 

" Tommy Sloan can't throw anything," he 
shouted, contemptuously. "He can't even 
throw a fit ; why, Archie Bond would toss 
him over the Genesee Falls and up back 
again while Tommy was gettin' a hitch on 
his trousers." 

" Archie Bond, nothing," said the sporting 
editor, with withering scorn. 

" I bet you ten dollars he throws him three 
times out of three." 

Sporting editors know too much of the 
inside of things, and so they don't bet ; the 
offer, however, was promptly taken by 
another member of the company. 

" I'll tell you what we'll do," said the 

by Google 

volatile Jim, who had made friends with all 
present, " we'll get up a little wrestling match 
here between Bond and Sloan, and the man 
that wins shall tackle Howard Carruth. But, 
of course, boys, you'll all keep this quiet ? " 

" Oh, of course, of course," they all said, 

Short as the notice was, there was a good 
audience to see the match between Tommy 
Sloan and Archie Bond, and Tommy quite 
justified the sporting editor's prediction, 
throwing Bond twice hand-running, not, how- 
ever, without some difficulty. Sloan accepted 
the position as super in "As You Like It," 
and Jim Gourley delivered a short address 
from the ring, stating the situation and asking 
them all to keep it dark. 

For a dead secret the matter was discussed 
in Rochester more universally than might 
have been expected. On Monday night, 
when Howard Carruth came to the peep-hole 
of the curtain, dressed as Orlando, and placed 
his eye to the aperture, he was amazed at 
what he beheld. The theatre was packed 
from the furthest corner of the upper gallery 
to the front row by the orchestra. Before 
the play began, the box-office sent round 
word to the green-room that they were selling 
standing-room only, and would soon have to 
quit even that. Carruth was in splendid 
form that night ; never had Jim seen him 
act better. The lavish and somewhat indis- 
criminate applause of the great audience 
seemed to inspire him. When Tommy 
Sloan, as Charles the Wrestler, came on, he 
was received with a burst of enthusiasm, 
which might have put Mr. Carruth in some 
suspicion of the real state of things were it 
not that an actor, like a magnet, draws 
everything to himself, and is a very self- 
centred man. The moment they clinched, 
Orlando felt himself in a grip of iron, and, 
taken by surprise, was very nearly thrown. 
As he recovered himself, staggering back, 
there arose a yell of delight from the 

The unexpected opposition coming on Car- 
ruth's already high exaltation roused all his 
old wrestling blood. He pounced on Sloan like 
a hawk, and as the two men struggled up and 
down the stage, the other actors pressed back 
against the scenery to be out of the way. 
But Carruth was out of practice and his wind 
was not as sound as it had been years before, 
and after a most severe tussle that brought 
beads of sweat on his brow, he found himself 
down on one knee, and Sloan pressing him 
hard to lay him over backward prone on the 
boards. In the storm of applause, Carruth 

Original from 


2 l6 


was enabled to speak to his opponent un- 
heard by any of the audience. 

"Look hero, my man," he said, in quick 
gasps, " you are not to throw me, you know ; 
I'm to throw you." 

li Well, do it then/' replied Sloan, 
between his set teeth. 

"Oh, that's it, is it?" growled 
Carruth ; then his old trick with 
the San Francisco butcher came 

truth in the other actor's response, " He 
cannot speak, my lord*" 

Although nearly everyone else in Rochester 
was into the secret, the dramatic critics were 



buck to him. He whipped out sideways, 
almost from under Sloan, gave the little 
jerk at the coat collar, whirled him round in 
transit, and plump went Sloan's broad hack 
on the boards, Carruth standing erect over 
the prostrate body with heaving chest The 
audience rose and cheered* Never before 
had Shakespeare been so enthusiastically 
received in Rochester, and the frantic ap- 
plause saved the break in the play, for the 
Duke Frederic^ standing with his hack against 
the painted canvas forest, was so astounded 
at the contest that he forgot he had to cry 
" No more, no more," until a sharp whisper 
from Carruth reminded him, and then the 
audience, having calmed down, could not 
but well laugh when Carruth himself said : 
" Yes, I beseech your grace, I am not yet 
well breathed," l>ecause it was quite palpable 
from his heavy breathing that he was as near 
done out as any man could well be. Then 
when the Duke, bending over the prostrate 
man, said : — 

"How dost thou. Charles?" there was 

by Google 

innocent. Sporting editors look upon 
dramatic critics as an encumbrance' upon a 
paper, whose pretentious effusions no sane 
man should care to read, when there is a 
sporting page to devour. So the critics 
knew nothing of the plot, but waxed enthusi- 
astic next morning on the excellence of 
Howard Carruth J s acting and stage manage- 

" He has made," said one of them, tf the 
wrestling scene in 'As You Like It* as 
notable as was Barry Sullivan's sword contest 
in < Richard II L J " 

It was announced in the papers that 
because of the numerous disappointments, 
which excluded much ot the town, on 
account of lack of room at the Opera 
House, "As You Tike It" would be 
repeated on Tuesday and Wednesday. As 
a matter of fact, this play occupied the 
boards all the week, Tommy Sloan and 
Archie Bond taking the part of C/tar/es on 
alternate nights, always doing their best, but 
always being thrown* 

Original from 



And thus Jim Gourley, prince of advance 
agents, worked up local pride in every city he 
touched, just as if he were running a base- 
ball team, and Howard Carruth came at last 
to San Francisco not only a rich man t but 
also a magnificent actor in the pink of 
physical condition. 

His admirers may say what they like — in 
fact, I am one of 
them myself hut it 
seems to me it is an 
indication of his un- 
bounded conceit, or 
else a slur on his in- 
telligence, that never, 
until they came to 
San Francisco, did he 
suspect the game that 
Jim Gourley was play- 
ing. Gourley knew 
his opposition to any- 
thing in the shape of 
what he called the 
Bamum style of ad- 
vertising, and so he 
did not dare to take 
the actor into his 
confidence, fearing 
he would veto the 
scheme. It was in 
San Francisco that 
the actor was nearly 
thrown on his back^ 
and that rather 
through surprise than 
through the skill of 
his opponent. Jim, 
with an eye to dra- 
matic effect, looked 
up the butcher, but 
did not tell him that 
the actor he was to 

meet was his old opponent, Nick Ringley, 
and the butcher had never heard of 
Howard Carruth. Carruth, when confronted 
for the last time with Pete McGorkal, had 
no suspicion that he was opposite his old 
enemy until, once within clutches, he tried 
his former trick of pulling the huge man to 
him, and the latter bellowed out, in spite of 
the fact that the words were not set down by 

Shakespeare, " No, you don't ! " The phrase 
startled Carruth, and brought the true state 
of the case to his mind* In that moment 
the butcher seized him and whirled him 
over his head, but, as before, to the intense 
delight of the gallery, Carruth turned his 
somersault and landed on his feet. The 
butcher had become stout and short of wind, 
and the actor, as I have said, was 
now in good condition, so he 
eluded the fat man, who trod the 
stage a puffing Fahtaffi, and, at last, 
closing in with him, got the grape- 
vine twist on his leg, 
and over went the 
butcher like a falling 
tower, Or /undo on 
top of him. 

"Yes, I do/ 5 said 
the actor, grimly, as 
he held him there 

At San Fran Cisco 
the mercurial Jim 
came to the actor and 
said he had concluded 
to leave business 
management and take 
up his old newspaper 
duties. The actor 
looked at him with a 
kindly gleam in his 
eye, then thrust for- 
ward his hand. 

" No, you don't," 
he said, whereat Jim 
smiled "You've been 
the making of me 
somehow, and you 
must stick by me." 

And stick by him 
Jim did until the 
actor's sudden death on the stage. And thus 
he came to write Howard Carruth's biography, 
and I have no doubt that it was at CarrutlVs 
request that Jim left out of the book all 
reference to wrestling. But I hold it should 
be written if only to do justice to a man ever 
kindly to others, although I cannot tell the 
incidents as graphically as Jim himself would 
have done. 


Vo i + Yviii— 2a 

by Google 

Original from 

The Australian Cricketers at Home. 

By M. Randal Roberts. 

F one looks at the fixture list 
of the Australians, which ex- 
tends without a break from 
the beginning of May to the 
middle of September, it seems 
almost a misnomer to speak 
of them as ever being at home. It is diffi- 
cult to have a fixed abode when you are 
compelled to be at the Oval one day, 
at Eastbourne the next, and two days 
afterwards at Sheffield. However, if the 
exigencies of their cricketing programme 
deprive the Australian Eleven of the delights 
of hearth and home during their campaign 
in England, the team, like other invading 
armies, occasionally enjoys the luxury of 
head -quarters. And the head -quarters of 
the Eleven, as everyone knows, are situated 
at the Inns of Court Hotel in Holborn. 
The hotel is, in fact, the base of operations 

On the contrary, Major Wardill and his 
merry men gave me as warm a welcome as if 
I had been an old friend whom they had 
long been pressing to visit them. Probably 
I bored them, but at any rate they didn't 
show it t though for one whole day I lived 
and moved and had my being among them, 
just as if I had been a member of the eleven. 
The clocks in Holborn only pointed to a 
few minutes past nine when I reached the 
Inns of Court Hotel, but, early as it was, 
two or three of the Australians had already 
finished breakfast. Major Wardill was sitting 
at a table in the corner of the room, with a 
huge pile of letters in front of him, which told 
plainly enough that the manager of a touring 
team must have the pen of a ready writer if he 
attends personally to all his correspondence, 
Hugh Trumhle was reclining in a capacious 
saddle-bag, deep in thought, and looking as 

t'rvm a] 


! J '■■■':■■ "1/ ■'' 

from which Major Wardill, the manager, 
directs the movements of his troops, and to 
which the army of invaders periodically 
returns after a victorious onslaught on one 
of the counties. 

Truth compels me to admit that on the 
occasion of my spending a day with the 
Australians at their London home I was not 
an invited guest. It was I who proposed 
the visit However, I didn't meet with the 
fate that usually awaits the self-invited guest. 

if he were devising new methods (it wanted 
only three weeks to the first of the test 
matches) for getting England's batsmen out. 
But Hugh Trumble has always a preoccupied 
air, so perhaps his thoughts may have 
been engaged on a far less interesting 

Presently the rest of the team began to 
drop in one by one. I hope I am not giving 
aw T ay any secrets when I state that the last to 
put in an appearance was Clem HilL 




V r Trumpet. 

J. WomU. 

S. E. Gregory. 

W. T Howell. 

. V, A, In-.tnle. 


I can conscientiously recommend a break- 
fast with the Australians as a first-rate recipe 
to anyone afflicted with an attack of the 
blues. There was a joke ready for each 
new-cumer, and there was a general air of 
hilarity which one associates more with a 
party of light-hearted schoolboys than with 
a team which has travelled all the way from 
Australia on the serious business of trailing 

the flag of English 
cricket in the dusL 
As Mr. Trumble 
moved across the 
room to Major 
Wardill and came 
within range of the 
photograp tier's 
weapon, one of his 
companions at the 
breakfast table 
threw an elongated 
baton of bread 
over to him, with 
the remark, " Here, 
Hughie, you 
mustn't be photo- 
graphed without a 
bat in your hand/' 
Trumble caught 
the impromptu bat 
and made a fine 
forward stroke with 
it, but he declined 
altogether to let the tableau be preserved in 
a photograph. 

Long before breakfast was over I descried 
a familiar figure in the doorway. It was the 
burly form of Jem Phillips, the Anglo- 
Australian cricketer, who can boast that 
for the last seven years he has never seen a 
winter. This pleasant feat he has achieved 
by the simple expedient of playing cricket in 

[From* FhMufiraph* 

J. WoTTBllt. 

W. P, HuweLL 


E. .Tones, 

J. Darling. 

^rom a] C. BisLwd, more or THE eleven at BHEAlcFAW/'y Ir Idl I lUI II " [Ftotigraph. 





England during the summer and in Australia 
during our winter — a see-saw piece of work that 
most of us envy him, Phillips is engaged 
with the Australian team as official scorer, and 
on that particular morning had looked in to 
see Major Ward ill on a matter of business, 
as he had doubtless done on many mornings 
before. But it at once occurred to my 
mind that there was quite a dramatic touch 
about Phillips's presence there. Here was 
the man whose action in no-balling Mr. Jones 
during Mr. Stoddart's last tour in Australia 
had caused more commotion than any event 
of the last twenty years in the cricket world, 
standing side by side and chatting pleasantly 
with the very cricketer whose bowling he had 
condemned. As a matter of fact, there was 
really nothing remarkable about the incident, 
as the Australians, like the good sportsmen 

they are, feel nothing but 
respect for an umpire who 
has the courage of Ms con- 
victions ; but not having 
seen the two men in the 
same room before, the 
scene struck me in much 
the same light as if I had 
found Lord Salisbury and 
Sir William Hareourt hob- 
nobbing together 

The post that morning 
had brought to each of the 
team a small pamphlet, the 
work of some one of the 
multitudinous army of 
cricket writers whom every 
visit of Australians to this 
country brings into being, 
giving a highly imaginative 
life-story of every member 
of the team, which proved 
far more interesting than 
the historian could possibly 
have anticipated. It added 
a relish to Mr. Darling's 
breakfast to find himself 
described as the finest bats- 
man in Australia. This was 
satisfactory so far as it went, 
and his natural pride was 
not abated on discovering 
that exactly the same terms 
of praise were applied to 
Mr. Hill. Any batsman 
living could feci well dis- 
posed towards the writer 
who bracketed him with 
Clem Hill, but the glow of 
satisfaction began to cool 
when it appeared that the pamphleteer, 
in his desire to extol the merits of the 
team, had described each and every member 
of it as "undoubtedly the best batsman in 

The quarters specially reserved for the 
Australians in the hotel consist of a cluster 
of bedrooms, all on the same floor, and a 
large room overlooking the comparatively 
peaceful wastes of Lincoln's Inn Fields which 
is used as a common room and dining room 
by the team. On the outside of the door of 
this room is affixed a censpicuous placard 
bearing the legend, "Private Rkskrvli> 
for thp: Australian XL'* This placard 
is mainly intended to warn off inter- 
viewers and other irresponsible callers, and 
for the sake of further security a waiter is 
told off specially to gjard the threshold. 




Frtrni q] 


Speaking as a mere native of the 
British hies I should have called the 
weather warm, but the Australians 
evidently thought differently, for a 
bright fire was burning in the break- 
fast-room. The sight of that fire 
was very suggestive of the contrast 
between the climates here and 
"down under. 1 ' There is nothing, 
Clem Hill remarked to me, which 
strikes the Australian cricketer on 
his first visit to this country more 
than the premature stiffness which 
is so prevalent among English 

The everyday sight on an English 
ground of a man who is unable to 
" shy/ 1 and can do nothing but 
" jerk," is unknown in Australia. 
Even Colonials who have passed 
their cricket prime, and have reached 
the age of forty, can still throw with 
much the same dash as of old. 
Among the best English teams there 
is often a woful deficiency in this 
essential to good fielding ; the 
cold and damp of our Northern 
climate penetrates into the 


and creates a chronic and incurable stiff- 
ness often before a man is thirty. 

** Major/' said Mr. Noble, from the 
end of the room, where he was atten- 
lively examining a barometer, " what 
time did you say that train of ours 
starts ? " The Major replied that there 
was no need to worry about trains, as he 
had ordered a four- horse shay to con- 
vey the team to Leyton that morning. 
This was the signal for a general move. 
Within a couple of minutes the Major was 
left alone trying to solve the problem of 
how the team was to be at Bradford till 
6.31 Wednesday evening, and at Lord's 
the next morning, without travelling in 
the night ; while the said team were in 
their bedrooms, tumbling bats, boots, and 
shirts into eleven cricket bags, pre- 
paratory for their battle against Essex, 
which was to begin at Leyton a couple 
of hours later. 

Mr. Jones I found in his room with 
one hand on his cricket bag and the 
other on the button of the electric bell, 
in a state of consternation, because one 
of his cricket boots was missing, Finally, 
however, the absent boot was recovered, 
and the eleven came clattering down 
the stairs to the front hall The Major's 

From <i| 

"■iGfti^roidpfosErfro start, 





four-horse shay, srhich took the form 
of a remarkably smart drag, was 
standing in readiness at the Holborn 
entrance. Oddly enough, though the 
street was crowded at the time, it 
apparently did not occur to any oF * 
the passers-by that the coach con- 
tained the Australian Eleven. A 
couple of small boys and their smaller 
sister tumbled to the fact and raised 
a weak cheer, but, otherwise, the 
team passed unnoticed from the hall 
door to the roof of the four-in-hand. 

As the story of how the Australians 
fared at Ley ton will be stale history 
by the time this appears in print, the 
reader must now imagine, after the 
manner of Acts I. and II. in a melo- 
drama, a period of eight hours to have 

The official dinner hour of the 
team, when they are in London at 
any rate, is seven o'clock, but this 
fixture is an elastic one. However, on 
this particular evening, as the men 
returned in good time from Ley ton, it 
was punctually observed. Inasmuch 
as the Australians dine on exactly the 
same lines as other less distinguished 
mortals, I am not going to describe 
the dinner. But it may possibly interest 
those who hold the creed that stimu- 
lants are necessary to sustained exer- 
tion to learn that two of the team 


are confirmed 
water drinkers. 

Judging from the 
bushels of invita- 
tion cards which 
lay piled on Major 
Wardill's table, it 
seemed as if there 
were a conspiracy 
among the mana- 
gers of every enter- 
tainment in Lon- 
don to deprive the 
Australians of their 
well-earned repose 
after a match. 
However, as luck 
had it, on this par 
ticular day they 
had an off evening. 
So after dinner, 
when cigars were 
produced, we still 
sat about the room 

From a] 

kr. culm " "->- '**fi"ef j fva i c f j^m •""- 




MR* HtJtill IKUMISI K r 

Frton a Photograph. 

chatting of every^ 
thing in general 
and cricket in par- 

The conversation 
drifted to the com- 
parative merits of 
devoting only three 
days to a match, 
as is done in 
county cricket, and 
of playing every 
important game to 
a finish, as the 
custom is in Aus- 
tralia* Gregory, 
Trumble, and Hill 
were very emphatic 
in declaring that 
they enjoy cricket 
far more in Eng- 
land than in Aus- 
tralia, That our 
three - day fixtures 

produce much more lively batting than the 
indefinitely extended matches in Australia 
is a fact with which every cricket spectator 
will agree, but it was interesting to hear the 
opinion of three players who have had prac- 
tical experience of the pros and cons of the 
methods which prevail in both countries. 

The visit of an Australian team to this 
country, I learned, is a far more formal 
affair than any of the tours in Australia 
undertaken by English cricketers. Before 
the present Australian team started each of 
the members signed an official agreement 
under which he bound himself to observe 
certain conditions. One of the most 
notable of these conditions was that during 
the tour none of the team should contri- 
bute to the Press either in this country or 
in Australia, I only mention this as a good 
instance of the serious spirit in which the 
tour was undertaken* The Australians have 
come over with the object of beating 
England if they can, and anything likely to 
interfere with their attaining that result is 
to be rigidly eschewed. 

There is no recipe for making time fly 
like talking cricket gossip* Before I had 
heard half of what the new-comers had to 
tell me of their impressions of cricket in 
the old country the clock had struck 
eleven, and as there was evidently a dis- 
position to move bedwards, I considerately 
took my departure. 

[l J ht^Ljii/raifh. 


fagots, and his 
great dungeon 

By E, Nesmt. 

HERE was once an old, old 
castle — it was so old that its 
walls and towers and turrets 
and gateways and arches had 
crumbled to ruins, and of all 
its old splendour there were 
only two little rooms left ; and it was here 
that John the blacksmith had set up his 
forge. He was too poor to live in a proper 
house* and no one asked any rent for the 
rooms in the ruin, because all the lords of the 
castle were dead and gone this many a year. 
So there John blew his bellows, and ham- 
mered his iron, and did all the work which 
came his way. This was not much, because 
most of the trade went to the mayor of the 
town, who was also a blacksmith in tj trite a 
large way of business, and had his huge forge 
facing the square of the town, and had twelve 
apprentices, all hammering like a nest of 
woodpeckers, and twelve journeymen to 
order the apprentices about, and a patent 
forge and a self-acting hammer and electric 
bellows, and all things handsome about him. 
So that of course the townspeople, whenever 
they wanted a horse shod or a shaft mended, 
went to the mayor. And John the black- 
smith struggled on as best he could, with a 
few odd jobs from travellers and strangers 
who did nut know what a superior forge the 
mayor's was* The two rooms were warm 

Digitized by tiOOglC 

ghtj but not 
the black- 
the way of 
old iron, and 
his odds and ends, and his 
twopenn'orths of coal in the 
down under the castle, It 
was a very fine dungeon indeed, with a hand- 
some vaulted roof and big iron rings, whose 
staples were built into the wall, very strong 
and convenient for tying captives up to, and 
at one end was a broken flight of wide steps 
leading down no one knew where. Even 
the lords of the castle in the good old times 
had never known where those steps led to, 
but every now and then they would kick a 
prisoner down the steps in their light-hearted, 
hopeful way, and, sure enough, the prisoners 
never came back* The blacksmith had never 
dared to go beyond the seventh step, and no 
more have I so I know no more than he 
did what was at the bottom of those stairs. 

John the blacksmith had a wife and a little 
baby. When his wife was not doing the 
house-work she used to nurse the baby and 
cry, remembering the happy days when she 
lived with her lather, who kept seventeen 
cows and lived quite in the country, and 
when John used to come courting her in the 
summer evenings, as smart as smart, with a 
posy in his button-hole. And now John's 
hair was getting grey, and there was hardly 
ever enough to eat. 

As for the baby, it cried a good deal al odd 
times ; but at night, when its mother had 
settled down to sleep, it would always begin 
to cry, quite as a matter of course, SO that 
she hardly got any rest at all This made 
her very tired- The baby could make up 
for its bad nights during the day, if it liked, 
but the poor mother couldn't. So whenever 
she had nothing to do she used to sit and cry, 
because she was tired out with work and worry, 




One evening the blacksmith was busy with 
his forge. He was making a goat-shoe for 
the goat of a very rich lady, who wished to 
see how the goat liked being shod, and also 
whether the shoe would come to tivepenee 
or sevenpenee before she ordered the whole 
set. This was the only order John had had 
that week. And as he worked his wife sat 
and nursed the baby, who, for a wonder, was 
not crying. 

Presently, over the noise of the bellows, 
and over the clank of the iron, there came 
another sound. The blacksmith and his 
wife looked at each other, 

" I heard nothing," said he, 

"Neither did I," said she. 

But the noise grew louder — and the two 
were so anxious not to hear it that he 
hammered away at the goat-shoe harder 
than he had ever hammered in his life, and 
she began to sing to the baby- a thing she 
had not had the heart to do for weeks, 

Hut through the blowing and hammering 
and singing the noise came louder and 
louder — and the more they tried not lo hear 
it, the more they had to. It was like the noise 
of some great creature purring, purring, 
purring — and the reason they did not want 
to believe they really heard it was, 
that it came from the great dungeon 
down below, where the old iron was, 
and the firewood and the two penn'orth 
of coal, and the broken steps that 
went down into the dark and 
ended no one knew where. 

" It can't he anything in 
the dungeon/ 1 said 
the blacksmith, 
wiping his face. 
" Why, I shall have 
to go down there 
after more coals in 
a minute/ 1 

"There isn't any- 
thing there, of 
course. How could 
there be ? " said his 
wife. And they tried 
so hard to believe 
that there could be 
nothing there that 
presently they very 
nearly did believe it. 

Then the black- 
smith took his 
shovel in one hand 
and his riveting 
hammer in the 
Other, and hung the 

Vol, %v\ 1.-211* 

old stable lantern on his little finger, and 
went down to get the coals* 

M I am not taking the hammer because I 
think there is anything there/' said he, "but 
it is handy for breaking the large lumps of 

"I quite understand," said his wife, who 
had brought the coal home in her apron that 
very afternoon, and knew that it was all 

So he went down the winding stairs to the 
dungeon, and stood at the bottom of the 
steps holding the lantern above his head just 
to see that the dungeon really was empty, as 
usual Half of it was empty as usual, except 
for the old iron and odds and ends, and the 
firewood and the coals. But the other side 
was not empty. It was quite full, and what 
it was full of was Dragon. 

" It must have come up those nasty broken 
steps from goodness knows where/' said the 
blacksmith to himself, trembling all over, as 
he tried to creep back up the winding stairs. 

But the dragon was too quick for him — 
it put out a great claw and caught him by the 
leg, and as it moved it rattled like a great 
bunch of keys, or like the sheet-iron they 
make thunder out of in the pantomime. 

by Google 





" No you don't," said the dragon, in a 
spluttering voice, like a damp squib. 

"Deary, deary me," said poor John, 
trembling more than ever in the claw of 
the dragon ; " here's a nice end for a respect- 
able blacksmith ! " 

The dragon seemed very much struck by 
this remark. 

" Do you mind saying that again ? " said he, 
quite politely. 

So John said again, very distinctly : — 

" Here — Is — A — Nice— End — For — A — 
Respectable — Blacksmith." 

" I didn't know," said the dragon. " Fancy 
now ! You're the very man I wanted." 

" So I understood you to say before," said 
John, his teeth chattering. 

" Oh, I don't mean what you mean," said 
the dragon ; " but I should like you to do a 
job for me. One of my wings has got some 
of the rivets out of it just above the joint. 
Could you put that to rights ? " 

" I might, sir," said John, politely, for you 
must always be polite to a possible customer, 
even if he be a dragon. 

" A master craftsman — you are a master, 
of course ? — can see in a minute what's 
wrong," the dragon went on. "Just come 
round here and feel of my plates, will you ? " 

John timidly went round when the dragon 
took his claw away ; and, sure enough, the 
dragon's off wing was hanging loose and all 
anyhow, and several of the plates near the 
joint certainly wanted riveting. 

The dragon seemed to be made almost 
entirely of iron armour — a sort of tawny, red- 
rust colour it was ; from damp, no doubt — 
and under it he seemed to be covered with 
something furry. 

All the blacksmith welled up in John's 
heart, and he felt more at ease. 

"You could certainly do with a rivet or 
two, sir," said he ; " in fact, you want a good 

"Well, get to work, then," said the dragon. 
"You mend my wing, and then I'll go out 
and eat up all the town, and if you make a 
really smart job of it 111 eat you last 
There ! " 

" I don't want to be eaten last, sir," said 

" Well, then, I'll eat you first? said the 

" I don't want that, sir, either," said John. 

" Go on with you, you silly man," said the 
dragon ; " you don't know your own silly 
mind. Come, set to work." 

"I don't like the job, sir," said John, 
"and that's the truth. I know how easily 

by K: 



accidents happen. It's all fair and smooth, 
and * Please rivet me, and 111 eat you last ' — 
and then you get to work and you give a 
gentleman a bit of a nip or a dig under his 
rivets — and then it's fire and smoke, and no 
apologies will meet the case." 

" Upon my word of honour as a dragon," 
said the other. 

" I know you wouldn't do it on purpose, 
sir," said John ; " but any gentleman will 
give a jump and a sniff if he's nipped, and 
one of your sniffs would be enough for me. 
Now, if you'd just let me fasten you up ? " 

"It would be so undignified," objected the 

"We always fasten a horse up," said 
John, "and he's the ' noble animal.*" 

" It's all very well," said the dragon, " but 
how do I know you'd untie me again when 
you'd riveted me ? Give me something in 
pledge. What do you value most ? " 

"My hammer," said John. "A blacksmith 
is nothing without a hammer." 

"But you'd want that for riveting me. 
You must think of something else, and at 
once, or I'll eat you first." 

At this moment the baby in the room 
above began to scream. Its mother had 
been so quiet that it thought she had settled 
down for the night, and that it was time to 

"Whatever's that?" said the dragon — 
starting so that every plate on his body 

" It's only the baby," said John. 

" What's that ? " asked the dragon — 
" something you value ? " 

"Well, yes, sir, rather," said the black- 

"Then bring it here," said the dragon; 
"and 111 take care of it till you've done 
riveting me, and you shall tie me up." 

"All right, sir," said John; "but I ought 
to warn you. Babies are poison to dragons, 
so I don't deceive you. It's all right to 
touch — but don't you go putting it into your 
mouth. I shouldn't like to see any harm 
come to a nice-looking gentleman like you." 

The dragon purred at this compliment and 
said : — 

"All right, I'll be careful. Now go and 
fetch the thing, whatever it is." 

So John ran up the steps as quickly as he 
could, for he knew that if the dragon got 
impatient before it was fastened up, it could 
heave up the roof of the dungeon with one 
heave of its back, and kill them all in the 
ruins. His wife was asleep, in spite of the 
baby's cries ; and John picked up the baby 
Original from 




and took it down and put it between the 
dragon's front paws, 

"You just purr to it, sir," he said, "and 
it'll be as good as gold." 

So the dragon purred, and his purring 
pleased the baby so much 
that it left off crying. 

,^ k 


Then John rummaged among the heap of 
old iron and found there some heavy chains 
and a great collar that had been made in the 
days when men sang over their work and put 
their hearts into it, so that the things they 
made were strong enough to bear the weight 
of a thousand years, let alone a dragon. 

John fastened the dragon up with the 
collar and the chains, and when he had pad- 
locked them all on safely he set to work to 
find out how many rivets would be needed. 

"Six, eight, ten— twenty, forty," said he: 
" I haven't half enough rivets in the shop* 
If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll step round to 
another forge and get a few dozen. I won't 
be a minute." 

And off he went, leaving the baby between 
the dragon's fore-paws, laughing and crowing 
with pleasure at the very large purr of it, 

John ran as hard as he could into the 
town, and found the mayor and corporation. 

" There's a dragon in my dungeon," he 

Digitized by GoOglc 

said ; " I've chained him up. Now come 
and help to get my baby away/' 
And he told them all about it. 
Hut they all happened to have engage- 
ments for that evening : so they praised 
John's cleverness, and 
said they were quite 
content to leave the 
matter in his hands, 

" But what about my 
babv? " said John* 

"Oh, well," said the 
mayor, " if anything 
should happen, you will 
always be able to re- 
member that 
your baby 
perished in a 
good cause." 

So John 
went home 
again,and told 
his wife some 
of the tale. 


given the baby 

to the dragon ! " she cried 

"Oh, you unnatural parent !" 

" Hush," said John, and he told 

her some more. 

" Now," he said, " I'm going 
down. After Tve been down you 
can go, and if you keep your he^d 
the boy will be all right." 

So down went the blacksmith, 
and there was the dragon purring 
away with all his might to keep 
the baby quiet* 

" Hurry up, can't you? * he said. " I can't 
keep up this noise all night." 

" I'm very sorry, sir," said the blacksmith, 
" but all the shops are shut The job rnust 
wait till the morning. And don't forget 
you've promised to take care of that baby, 
Youll find it a little wearing, I'm afraid. 
Good -night, sir," 

The dragon had purred till he was quite 
out of breath — so now he stopped, and as 
soon as everything was quiet the baby 
thought everyone must have settled for the 
night, and that it was time to begin to 
scream. So it began, 

" Oh, dear>" said the dragon, " this is 

He patted the baby with his claw, but it 
screamed more than ever, 

11 And I am so tired, too," said the dragon, 
"I did so hope I should have had a good 

nis * Original from 



The baby went on screaming, 

" There'll be no peace for me after this/' 
said the dragon ; " it s enough to ruin one's 
nerves. Hush, then — did J ums, then." And 
he tried to quiet the baby as if it had been a 
young dragon. But when he began to sing 
" Hush -a- by, dragon," the baby screamed 
more and more and more, "I can't keep it 
quiet/' said the dragon ; and then suddenly 
he saw a woman sitting on the steps. lt Here, 
I say," said he, " do you know anything 
about babies ? " 

" I do, a little," said the mother. 

" Then 1 wish you'd take this one t and let 
me get some sleep," said the dragon, yawning. 
"You can bring it back in the morning 
before the blacksmith comes." 

So the mother picked up the baby and 
took it upstairs and told her husband, and 
they went to bed happy, for they had caught 
the dragon and saved the baby. 

And next day John went down and 
explained carefully to the dragon exactly how 
matters stood, and he got an iron gate with 
a grating to it, and set it up at the foot of 
the steps, and the dragon mewed furiously 
for days and days, but when he found it was 
no good he was quiet, 

So now John went to the mayor and 
said : — 

" IVe got the dragon and I've saved the 
town. 1 ' 

w Noble preserver," cried the mayor, iA we 
will get up a subscription lor you> and crown 
you in public with a laurel wreath." 

So the mayor put his name down 
for five pounds, and the corporation 
each gave three, and other people 
gave their guineas and half-guineas, 
and half-crowns and crowns, and 
while the subscription was being 
made the mayor ordered three poems 
at his own expense from the town 
poet to celebrate the occasion. The 
poems were very much admired, 
especially by the mayor and cor- 

The first poem dealt with the noble 
conduct of the mayor in arranging 
to have the dragon tied up. The 
second described the splendid assist- 
ance rendered by the corporation. 
And the third expressed the pride 
and joy of the poet in being per- 
mitted to sing such deeds, beside 
which the actions of St George 
must appear quite commonplace to all with a 
feeling heart or a well-balanced brain. 

When the subscription was finished there 

Digitized by G< 

was a thousand pounds, and a committee 
was formed to settle what should be done 
with it. A third of it w f ent to pay for a 
banquet to the mayor and corporation ; 
another third was spent in buying a gold 
collar with a dragon on it for the mayor, and 
gold medals with dragons on them for the 
corporation ; and what was left went in com- 
mittee expenses, 

So there was nothing for the blacksmith 
except the laurel wreath, and the knowledge 
that it really was he who had saved the town. 
But after this things went a little better with 
the blacksmith. To begin with, the baby 
did not cry so much as it had before. Then 
the rich lady w T ho owned the goat was so 
touched by John's noble action that she 
ordered a complete set of shoes at 2 s. 4d., 
and even made it up to 2s. 6d. in grateful 
recognition of his public-spirited conduct. 



Then tourists 
used to come 
in breaks from quite a 
long way <>fi", and pay two- 
pence each to go clown 
the steps and peep through 

the iron grating at the 





rusty dragon in the dungeon and it was 
threepence extra for each party if the black- 
smith let off coloured fire to see it by, which, 
as the fire was extremely short, was twopence- 
halfpenny clear profit every time. And the 
blacksmith's wife used to provide teas at 
mnepenee a head, and altogether things grew 
brighter week by week. 

The baby -named John, after his father, 
and called lohnnie for short— began presently 
to grow up. He was great friends with Tina, 
the daughter of the whitesmith, who lived 
nearly opposite. She was a dear little girl, 
with yellow pigtails and blue 
eyes, and she was never tired 
of hearing the story of how 
Johnnie, when he was a 
baby, had been minded 
hy a real dragon. 

The two children used 
to go together to peep 
through the 
iron grating 
at the dra- 
gon f and 
they would 
hear him 
mew pite- 
ously. And 

as big as a tin church, was corning over the 
marshes towards the town. 

"We're lost," said the mayor. "I'd give 
a thousand pounds to anyone who could 
keep that giant out of the town. / know 
what he eats— by his teeth." 

No one seemed to know what to do. But 
Johnnie and Tina were listening, and they 
looked at each other, and then ran off as fast 
as their boots would carry them. 

They ran through the forge, and down the 
dungeon steps, and knocked at the iron door. 

** Who's there ? J1 said the dragon. 



they would light a halfpennyworth of 
coloured fire to look at him by. ' And they 
grew older and wiser. 

Now, at last one day the mayor and 
corporation, hunting the hare in their gold 
gowns, came screaming back to the town 
gates with the news that a lame, humpy giant, 

Digitized by GoOgJC 

us," said the 

And the dra- 
gon was so dull from having been 
alone for ten years that he said r— 
"Come in, dears." 
M You won't hurt us, or breathe 
fire at us or anything?" asked Tina, 
And the dragon said, 4i Not for worlds." 
So they went in and talked to him, and 
told him what the weather was like outside, 
and what there was in the papers, and at 
last Johnnie said : — 

u There's a lame giant in the town. He 

wants VOiL^ . . . - 

Urigmal from 




"Does he ? " said the dragon, showing his 
teeth. *' If only i were out of this ! " 

11 If we let you loose you might manage to 
run away before he could catch you." 

11 Yes, I might" answered the^ dragon, 
11 but then again I mightn't." 

u Why — you'd never fight him ? ,? said 

M No," said the dragon; "Fm all for 
peace, I am. You let me out, and you'll 

So the children loosed the dragon from the 
chains and the collar, 
and ho broke down 
one end of the dun- 
geon and went out 
— only pausing at 
the forge door to get 
the blacksmith to 
rivet his wing. 

He met the lame 
giant at the gate 
of the town, and 
the giant banged 
on the dragon 
with his club as if 
he were banging 
an iron foundry, 
and the dragon 
behaved like a 
smelting works — 
all fire and smoke. 
It was a fearful 
sight, and people 
watched it from 
a distance, falling 
off their legs with the shock 
of every bang, but always 
getting up to look again. 

At last the dragon won, and 
the giant sneaked away across 
the marshes, and the dragon, 
who was very tired, went home 
to sleep, announcing his intention of 
eating the town in the morning* He 
went hack into his old dungeon because 
he was a stranger in the town, and he ■*, 
did not know of any other respectable 
lodging. Then Tina and Johnnie went 
to the mayor and corporation and said, 
u The giant is settled. Please give us the 
thousand pounds reward," 

But the mayor said, " No, no, my boy- 
It is not you who have settled the giant, it is 
the dragon. I suppose you have chained 
him up again ? When he comes to claim the 
reward he shall have it." 

11 He isn't chained up yet," said Johnnie. 
" Shall I send him to claim the reward ? " 

by Vj£ 

But the mayor said he need not trouble ; 
and now he offered a thousand pounds to 
anyone who would get the dragon chained 
up again. 

11 1 don't trust you," said Johnnie. " Look 
how you treated my father when he chained 
up the dragon/' 

But the people who were listening at the 
door interrupted, and said that if Johnnie 
could fasten up the dragon again they would 
turn out the mayor and let Johnnie be mayor 
in his place. For they had been dissatisfied 
with the mayor for some time, and 
thought they would like a change. 

So Johnnie said, "Done," and off 
he went, hand-in-hand with Tina, and 
they called on all their little friends 
and said : 

" Will you help us to save the 
town ? :1 

And all the children said, "Yes, of 
course we will What fun ! w 

" Well, then," said Tina, "you 
must all bring your basins of bread 
and milk to the 
forge to-morrow 
at breakfast 

" And if ever I 
am mayor," said 
Johnnie, " I will 
give a banquet, 
and you shall be 
invited. And 
we'll have noth- 
ing but sweet 
things from be- 
ginning to end." 
All the children 
promised, and 
next morning 
Tinu and Johnny 
rolled the big 
w a s h i n g - 1 u b 
down the wind- 
ing stair. 

" What's that 
noise?" asked 
the dragon. 
" It's only a big giant breathing," said 
Tina j "he's gone by, now," 

Then, when all the town children brought 
their bread and milk, Tina emptied it into 
the wash-tub, and when the tub was full 
Tina knocked at the iron door with the 
gntting in it, and said : — 
u May we come in? " 

"Oh, yes," said the dragon; "it's very 
dull here." 

Original from 





So they went in, and with the help of nine 
other children they lifted the washing-tub in 
and set it down by the dragon. Then all 
the other children went away, and Tina and 
Johnnie sat down and cried. 

" What's this ? " asked the dragon, " and 
what's the matter ? " 

" This is bread and milk," said Johnnie ; 
"it's our breakfast— all of it." 

" Well," said the dragon, " I don't see 
what you want with breakfast. I'm going 
to eat every one in the town as soon as I've 
rested a little." 

" Dear Mr. Dragon," said Tina, " I wish 
you wouldn't eat us. How would you like 
to be eaten yourself?" 

" Not at all," the dragon confessed, " but 
nobody will eat me." 

" I don't know," said Johnnie, " there's a 
giant " 

" 1 know. I fought with him, and licked 
hhn " 

" Yes, but there's another come now — the 
one you fought was only this one's little boy. 
This one is half as big again." 

" He's seven times as big," said Tina. 

"No, nine times," said Johnnie. "He's 
bigger than the steeple." 

"Oh, dear," said the dragon. "I never 
expected this." 

" And the mayor has told him where you 
are," Tina went on, " and he is coming to 
eat you as soon as he has sharpened his big 
knife. The mayor told him you were a wild 
dragon — but he didn't mind. He said he 
only ate wild dragons — with bread sauce." 

" That's tiresome," said the dragon, " and 
I suppose this sloppy stuff in the tub is the 
bread sauce ? " 

The children said it was. "Of course," 
they added, " bread sauce is only served with 
wild dragons. Tame ones are served with 
apple sauce and onion stuffing. What a pity 
you're not a tame one : he'd never look at 
you then," they said. "Good-bye, poor 
dragon, we shall never see you again, and 
now you'll know what it's like to be eaten." 
And they began to cry again. 

"Well, but look here," said the dragon, 
" couldn't you pretend I was a tame dragon ? 
Tell the giant that I'm just a poor little, timid 
tame dragon that you kept for a pet." 

" He'd never believe it," said Johnnie. 
"If you were our tame dragon we should 
keep you tied up, you know. We shouldn't 
like to risk losing such a dear, pretty pet." 

Then the dragon begged them to fasten 
him up at once, and they did so : with the 
collar and chains that were made years ago — 

Digitized by t^OOQ lC 

in the days when men sang over their work 
and made it strong enough to bear any strain. 

And then they went away and told the 
people what they had done, and Johnnie was 
made mayor, and had a glorious feast exactly 
as he had said he would — with nothing in it 
but sweet things. It began with Turkish 
delight and halfpenny buns, and went on 
with oranges, toffee, cocoanut-ice, pepper- 
mints, jam-puffs, raspberry-noyeau, ice-creams, 
and meringues, and ended with bull's-eyes 
and ginger-bread and acid-drops. 

This was all very well for Johnnie and 
Tina; but if you are kind children with 
feeling hearts you will perhaps feel sorry for 
the poor deceived, deluded dragon — chained 
up in the dull dungeon, with nothing to do 
but to think over the shocking untruths that 
Johnnie had told him. 

When he thought how he had been tricked 
the poor captive dragon began to weep — and 
the large tears fell down over his rusty plates. 
And presently he began to feel faint, as 
people sometimes do when they have been 
crying, especially if they have not had any- 
thing to eat for ten years or so. 

And then the poor creature dried his eyes 
and looked about him, and there he saw the 
tub of bread and milk. So he thought, " If 
giants like this damp, white stuff, perhaps / 
should like it too," and he tasted a little, and 
liked it so much that he ate it all up. 

And the next time the tourists came, and 
Johnnie let off the coloured fire, the dragon 
said, shyly : — 

" Excuse my troubling you, but could you 
bring me a little more bread and milk ? " 

So Johnnie arranged that people should go 
round with carts every day to collect the 
children's bread and milk for the dragon. 
The children were fed at the town's expense 
— on whatever they liked ; and they ate 
nothing but cake and buns and sweet things, 
and they said the poor dragon was very 
welcome to their bread and milk. 

Now, when Johnnie had been mayor ten 
years or so he married Tina, and on their 
wedding morning they went to see the 
dragon. He had grown quite tame, and his 
rusty plates had fallen off in places, and 
underneath he was soft and furry to stroke. 
So now they stroked him. 

And he said, " I don't know how I could 
ever have liked eating anything but bread 
and milk. I am a tame dragon, now, aren't 
I ? " And when they said " Yes, he was," 
the dragon said : — 

"I am so tame, won't you undo me?" 
And some DeoDle would have been afraid to 





trust him, but Johnnie and Tina were so 
happy on their wedding day that they could 
not believe any harm of anyone in the world. 
So they loosed the chains, and the dragon 
said, " Excuse me a moment, there are o\\^ or 
two little things I should like to fetch," and 
he moved off to those mysterious steps and 
went down them, out of sight into the dark- 
ness. And as he moved more and more of 
his rusty plates fell off. 

In a few minutes they heard him clanking 
up the steps. He brought something in his 
mouth — it was a bag of gold. 

"It's no good to me,' 1 he said ; "perhaps 
you might find it come in useful." So they 
thanked him very kindly* 

" More where that came from/ 5 said he, 
and fetched more and more and more, till 
they told him to stop. So now they were 
rich, and so were their fathers and mothers. 
Indeed, everyone was rich, and there were 
no more poor people in the 
town. And they all got rich 
without working, which is 
wrong ; but the dragon 

never been to school, as you have, so he 
knew no better 

And as the dragon came out of the 
dungeon, following Johnnie and Fin a into 
the bright gold and blue of their wedding 
day, he blinked his eyes as a cat does in the 
sunshine, and he shook himself, and the last 
of his plates dropped off, and his wings with 
them , and he was just like a very, very 
extra sized cat And from that day he grew 
furrier and furrier, and he was the beginning 
of all cats* Nothing of the dragon remained 
except the claws, which all cats have still, 
as you can easily ascertain. 

And I hope you see now how important it 
is to feed your cat with bread and milL If 
you were to let it have nothing to eat but 
mice and birds it might grow larger and 
fiercer, and scalier and tailier, and get wings 
and turn into the beginning of dragons. And 
then there would be all the bother over again. 

by Google 

Original from 

A Remarkable Quilt. 

By R, G, Bassett. Photographs bv Alfrkd Dewey, Sidcup. 

HE collecting of autographs 
has always had a fascination 
for people. But probably 
never has this interesting 
hobby been associated with 
a more pleasing work than 
that lately accomplished by Mrs. J. Wheeler 
Bennett, of Ravens bourne, Keston, near 
Bromley, in Kent. 'This work takes the form 
of a unique quilt, which consists of forty 
satin " squares ,] arranged in diamond shape 
and joined with torchon lace. Upon the 
"squares" are inscribed the autographs of 
some 400 or more persons of high rank, or 
distinguished in the service of the State, in 
politics, science, art, music, arid literature. 
Now that it is completed, the quilt has been 
disposed of for the benefit of the funds of a 
local charity — the Bromley Cottage Hospital 
— and realized a handsome sum for this 

So remarkable a piece of work, which will 
be an art treasure in the home to which it 
goes, calls for more than passing reference, 
and having been privileged to inspect it, 1 
am able to pass in review some of the dis- 
tinguished names it bears, 

Occupying the central place in the quilt is 
the Royal square, having the signatures of 
H.R.H, the Prince of Wales, the Duke and 
Duchess of York, 
the Princess Vic- 
toria of Wales, the 
Duchess of Fife, 
and the Duke of 
Fife, Near to this 
is another Royal 
squarej that in 
which H.R.H. 
the Duchess of 
Albany's signature 
is given, with those 
of her son and 
daughter, the 
young Duke of 
Albany and the 
Princess Alice. 
The signatujes 
here are those of 
the Duke of Teck, 
the Princes Adol- 
phus and Alex 
ander of Teck, 
and the Princess 
Adolphus of Teck. 

The peerage is represented by numerous 
names, distinguished in many instances by 
honourable service in the State, Here are 
the Duke of Norfolk, Lord Ashbourne, the 
Duke of Westminster, the Duchess of West- 
minster, Duchess of Newcastle, Marquis 
and Marchioness of Tweeddale, Marquis of 
Salisbury, Karl of Aberdeen, Countess of 
Aberdeen, the Marquis of Londonderry, 
K.G.> Lord Russell of Killowen, Lord Chief 
Justice of England, who, as Sir Charles 
Russell* was the most brilliant advocate at 
the Bar, Meld Marshal Lord Roberts, Lord 
Kitchener of Khartoum, the hero of the 
Soudan, and many others. 

In the world of politics the Prime Minister 
has already been mentioned, Other names 
more especially known in the political arena 
are Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, Secretary of 
State for the Colonies ; Sir Matthew White 
Ridley, BarL, the Home Secretary ; Sir 
Edward Clarke, Q.C, M.P. ; Sir Robert 
Unlay, Q.C., M/P. ; Mr. W. Willis, Q.C, 
M.P. ; the late lamented Sir Frank Lock- 
wood, and a number of other Q.C. NLP.'s. 

His Grace the Lord Primate of Ireland 
leads off the list of dignitaries of the Church 
who have given their autographs " in the 
sweet cause of charity." The roll of bishops 
and their wives includes the Bishop of 

-J?:5z*;r"- -; 


' f ' rtrii ,L, unqinal from 

6 by \j> GO 9 IC 




London and Mrs, Creighton, the Bishop of 
Chichester and Mrs. Wilberforce, the Bishop 
of Manchester and Mrs, Moorhouse, Arch- 
bishop O'Brien (of Halifax), and then there 
are also the Dean of Winchester and Mrs. 
MeClure, Canon Bamett and Mrs, Barnett, 
Canon Elwyn, Canon Duckworth, Canon 
Murray, and Canon Allen. 

Civic names are here in large number, and 
include Sir Faudel Phillips {Lord 
Mayor, 1896-7) and Lady Faudel 
PhillipSj Sir Horatio Da vies (Lord 
Mayor j 1897-8) and Lady Davies ; 
Sir Henry Knight, who was Lord 
Mayor of London 1882-3; Alder- 
men R. C. Halse (the late), F. P. 
Alliston (of Beckenham), Alfred 
C Newton, Clarence R, Halse, 
and Under Sheriff Webster 

The Bench and Bar are re- 
presented by a singularly distin- 
guished list of names, Here are 
among those who occupy seats 
on the Bench : The Lord Chief 
Justice Russell, Lord Esher, 
Master of the Rolls, Sir Joseph 
Chitty, Sir Richard Henri Collins, 
Sir Ford North, Sir James Stirling, 
Sir Robert Romer, Sir James 
Charles Matthew, Sir Robert 
Samuel Wright, Sir Arthur 
Kekewich, Sir Gains ford Bruce, 
Sir Arthur Moseley Channell, and 

Digitized by GOOglC 

last, but not least, that stern 
judge who has tried and sen- 
tenced more criminals than any 
other living man, Sir Henry 
Hawkins, now Lord Brampton. 
At the Bar we have, besides the 
Q.C M.P/s already mentioned, 
Mr. Graham Hastings, Q.C, 
Mr. Arthur Jelf, Q.C, Sir R. T, 
Reid, Q.C, Mr. }. W. Wheeler, 
Q.C, Mr. Lawson Walton, Q.C, 
Mr. Ernest Levett, Q,C, and 
Mr. F. A, Bosanquet, Q.C. 

Art has distinguished repre- 
sentatives in the names of Sir 
E. J- Poy titer, President of the 
Royal Academy ; Alma-Tadema, 
Briton Rivifere, Frank Dick see, 
Luke Fildes^ Val Prinsep, 
Andrew Gow, J, MacWhirter, 
Henry Wells, Hubert Herkumer, 
E, Onslow Ford, H. H. Arm- 
stead, J, W. Waterhouse — all 
R.A.'s. Another painter whose 
name is indelibly written in 
the annals of art, although he was never 
admitted to the charmed circle of the 
"Forty" of Burlington House, is the 
late Sir Edward Burne - Jones, Other 
names whose paintings have many admirers 
are Solomon J. Solomon, A.R.A., who has 
lately been engaged in painting the decora- 
tion for the Royal Exchange ; Arthur Hacker, 
the figure painter; James Guthrie, R.S.A., 

~T unqinai from 




one of the leading portrait painters of the 
newer school, etc. 

In the world of Music the autographs are 
numerous and we scarce know where to begin. 
Sir Arthur Sullivan, Sir J. P\ Bridge con- 
ductor of the Royal Albert Hall, and organist 
of Westminster Abbey ; Sir George Martin, 
organist of St. Paul's Cathedral; Sir Arthur 
Mackenzie, conductor of the Philharmonic 
Society, and Principal of the Royal Academy 
of Music; Sir George Grove j Sir 
Walter Parratt, organist of St. 
George's Chapel Royal, Windsor ; 
Dn Ebenezer Prout, musical pro- 
fessor of Dublin University ; Dr. 
W. Creser, composer to the Queen, 
and organist of Chapel Royal, Sl 
James's ; Mr. August Manns, the 
veteran musical director of the 
Crystal Palace ; and Mr* William 
H. Curnmings, Principal of the 
Guildhall School of Music, Coming 
to notable singers, we have a very 
full list of names familiar to music- 
lovers of the present day : Madame 
Albani, Madame Belle Cole, 
Madame Alice Gomez, Miss Ada 
Crossley, Miss Clara Butt, Miss 
Evangeline Florence, Miss Matin- 
tyre, Madame Blanche Marches!, 
Mr. Charles Santtey, Mr. Edward 
Lloyd, Mr. Ben Da vies, Mr, Hay den 
Coffin; Mr. John Thomas, 
harpist to the Queen ; Stephen 

d oy Google 

Adams, the song- writer, etc., 

Among other notable men 
and women who have ap- 
pended their autographs may 
be mentioned Sir Wilfred 
I^aurier, Premier of Canada ; 
Admiral Sir Nowell Salmon, 
CCB., V.G; Admiral Sir 
James Erskine, K,CB. ; 
Admiral Commerell, G*C*R, 
V.C; the Hon. Alfred 
I , y 1 1 e 1 1 o n ; Sir Frederick 
Falkner, Chief Recorder of 
Dublin ; Lieutenant-Governor 
Daley, of Nova Scotia ; his 
Eminence Cardinal Logue, 
Archbishop of Armagh ; Mr. 
R. D. Blackmore, the novelist ; 
SirW. H. Broadbent, Bart., 
M.D. ; Countess Balzain, 
great-niece of the Emperor 
Napoleon ; Mr. W, H, Preece, 
CB,, F.R.S. ; Sir Henry 
Irving; John Ruskin, etc., etc, 
So remarkable a treasure must in future 
years become more and more valuable. As 
we have seen, while it has been in prepara- 
tion, several of those who have signed it — the 
Duchess of Teck, the mother of our future 
Queen ; Sir Edward Burne- Jones, whose 
works will live for all time ; and genial 
Sir Frank Lock wood— have passed away, and 
their autographs remain only to recall them 
to memory. 


•V**j#^ *^*^r**^.* ^J^**^*J^^^^ 

Zi&ilS : .<%\ 



[ Wt shall be glad to rtceh*e Contributions to this section ^ and to pay for such as are accepted] 

In another part of the present number we 
have a very inl cresting article describing 
the strange result of a wager on the elec- 
tion of the President of Hie United Stales, 
the loser of which was obliged to drive a 
donkey across the Tniled States and to earn 
his own living as he went. This picture 
relates to another of a somewhat similar kind. 

It is sent by Mr. Judd Hartzelt, La Harpe, 
Illinois, together with the following explana- 
tion ; " The circumstances are these. In 
1896, during the heat of the McKinley- Bryan 
campaign, a wager was made on the result of 
the election as follows: Mr. Geo. Ilamline 
wagered that Mr. Ml: Kinky would be elected 
President, while Mr, Thomas Games wagered 
that Mr* Bryan would be elected. The one 
that lost was to Maud all day in the tallest 
tree, in our City Park, ami also S* photo- 
graphed in that postilion. The photograph 
shows Mr. Games carrying out the wager, 
he having lost," The photo, was taken by Mr. 
Henry, La llarpc, Illinois. 
* Copyright, 1899, by George New nest. Limited. 

Original from 



This is a picture of an arch of Utrrd* mend in horn hit of the 
visit of Lord and Lady Aberdeen lo Goderich, Ontario. The 
banner underneath shows the apple crop of the County of Huron for 
the year — viz** 500,000 liarrels. The photo, was sent by Mr. W. J* 
Pasmore, of that city. 

The accompanying laughable challenge was issued by Mr. George 

Hoy to ibe Eastern 
Counties Rail way Com- 
pany — now the Great 
Ea stern Railway, 
Those who have had 
the pleasure of travel- 
ling on the same line 
in our own days are 
w T ell aware thai their 
service is now all that 
could tie wished. Vet 
we could name another 
company, very similar 
in name, against whom, 
if the challenge 
were now repeated, 
there is no doubt that 
Mr. Hoy's ancient 
donkey would have no 
difficulty in carrying off 
the prize, and indulging 
in tne bray of triumph 
which his master 
speaks of. We are in- 
debted for the print to Mr. F, C. 
Artnsden, West llau^ S.E* 

? ■ , 

"* JL 

son to 



Th fct**4* k *ft u*et W J" i Lrttar jnt t* |b %«ton of lb, bdEfln: frvri. Kiihrij frp^J 

£*W tfrvwi, Jnyiud K&. IB!',. 
I ■' TBI Cti AIRMAN JLITD ] i'.HJ ! . II ■ 

of Til Barxm Courmk* RuMM Comply. 

Your Engine *vtn to b* inking H cmt^ rwy- I b*W atl old Donkry lUt 
I *UI guarantee 10 luflt same of JOW HiuLantt Trulm in ipted. Fur fiumplr, 
join Time Tsble ntluw* 6, 7 r tuiiid Minute* fruui CJh^liuiit lu Waltlmm. JJowj^ 
I will bsict my *y\t\ Dunkuy to du it in 4 Mhutep, nn*l lint* letm* ran- limr in jjrt ^\ 
my break/tut talon ihr Tmia silartr. 

TbJt* I it lie Dcjnkt'^ j* 16 veaj™ tjlrl t tit I wpiilil Iwtck him un run utfiin-it 
Mimrj of your Train* from Clicihuiit to Lrnidun. 1 kuwt lw. nonld hdvi- hi-nicu 
them 4 or ^ ytsur* n^cj, hik! I ihiuk be mi^lit ih? *o now, Imt I uni unt willmg to 
in* the [KtWere of my old friend. He h jIQ do m.-hi*t 1 bur* ntutt^d ic^A mar, wnl 
Iiqvu a pc*LHl bray uflM-trunK h* if in cav1i-m|it of Uie §\k union I'owmi of Eiurirm 
('MlDtifa Sttinft. Jt'yiu ore willing In iim-pf tbo CEuUlin^e, naiiit riii* dajj nud 
Lhh- an Miiipin' mi u fun liorve to jkv all fair, and I will l* j roudy for jon + 


**' ' 


• • I "- 

I am, Gtnth mm, 

Your humble, ftorvunt, 

(Signed) GEORGE HOY 

gLliLK TYFJi. 
Mr. A. Stewart Jones, of Wind- 
sor, Canada t sends the accompany- 
ing curious photo* and description : 
11 The original is a piece of type- 
mcial, which, m the great fire that 
destroyed this town on October 
17th, 1897, was melted from some 
type from the cases of the Tribune 
Publishing Company and found in 
1 he ir ruins. The photo, was taken 
by myself, and I might add that 
the original is exactly as found and 
has not been * doctored ' in any 
way. It is still I he property of 
the above 



company, and can 
GEORGE HOY. lie seer at their office at any 

^- --■— ^©flgirtHttfom 


2 38 


We have received the following most i tit crest- 
ing letter from Mr, J. Ashton Gamble, of Sioux 
City, Iowa : <£ Protjably l he most wonderful canine 
in the world, in his way, is Silver Tip, owned by 
F. E, Barber, proprietor of the New Exchange 
Hotel, Sioux City, Iowa, Silver Tip's peculiarity 
is his ability to select instantly from among any 
n urn t«r of coins of any kind l he genuine American 
silver dollar. He has been tried with every variety 
of coin available, including very clever counterfeits, 
and under varying conditions, and never has been 
known to score a failure. He works by retrieving, 
and will not even go near anything but the silver 


Mr. J + William Hook, of Bristol, sends us the 

above curious letter, which contains eight lines of a 

love- poem, and may be read by holding the page on a 

level with the eye*, so as to foreshorten the characters. 

With the accompanying photograph we have 
received from Mr. E» Meredith, of Georgetown, 
Tredegar, the following letter which describes it : 
11 I inclose a photo- 
graph, which I took 
on May i8ih T 1899, 
of a robin's nest in a 
buffer of a waggon. 
The nest was built 
while the waggon 
was undergoing re- 
pairs at the Ebbw 
Vale Steel, Iron, and 
Coal Cop's waggon 
yard, where upwards 
of sixty men are at 
work daily, and it 
was not noticed 
until there were five 
eggs in it. Then 
the bird was seen 
llyinj; out. Several 
persons came to see 
it, as it is quite a 
curiosity, When I 
took it there were 
sis eggs in ihe nest." 

From a I'hoto. b* Bafflj i ftl flHlflfoi StOMM £14 y. AirtW. 

dollar. His most famous feat was in recently deciding 
in favour of a silver dollar which had l>een rejected by 
three hanks as spurious, and which was subsequently 

d cc I ared l o be gen u i n e 
by the sub- treasury 
officials in Chicago* 
The animal deve- 
loped his partiality 
for the dollar silver 
piece himself, and his 
owner offers no ex* 
pi ana t Ion for his 
remarkable sagacity 
lieyond instinct* A 
]k>slon newspaper 
facetiously suggested 
that he is the reincar- 
nation of a dead 
I tanker. Silver Tip 
is a handsome tan, 
and weighs loHlh. 
Mr. Barber has re- 
fused as much as 
toodola. in cash for 
his clever caniue t and 
declares he is not for 
sale at any price.* 1 

Original from 


2 39 


This startling photograph was taken by 
Mr. E, IXikmn^ld Jo nes f of Castro, Parana. 
We presume that it is a M trick- photo- 
graph," but Mr* Jones does not give us 
any particulars, and he lives such a long 
way off that we cannot readily communi- 
cate with him. Possibly , however, some 
of our readers may be able to discover 
how it is done. It is sent to us by 
Mr. A. G. Grenfell, of Park gate, Cheshire. 


The hobbies of collectors are inniiiner* 
able, and sometimes take extraordinary 
forms. We once heard of a gen lie in an 
who devoted his spare time to the collec- 
tion of police men's batons — certainly the 

Bushey* If any of our readers know of 
any queer collections of this kind we 
shall be very glad to hear from them. 

The reproduction below shows a 
new position for a group of sitters. 
Jt is not, however, anyone T s inven- 
tion, but came to pass by The acci- 
dent of a shower of rain, while the 
ladies were engaged in haymaking. No 
other shelter being at hand, they 
sought protection by burying them- 
selves in the grass, in which position 
the photographer caught them* The 
phot (i. is sent in by Mr. G. Bond, 
The Rookery, Eye, Suffolk, and was 
taken by Mr. \\\ Girling, Stradbroke. 

queerest craze within 
our e k pe rie n ce. The 
a bove picture, 
though not so re- 
in ark able, is never- 
theless quite a curi- 
osity of its kind. It 
represents part of 
a colled ion of jugs 
belonging to a lady. 
There are 613 in 
the picture, but the 
owner possesses over 
725 altogether, They 
came from all parts 
of England and some 
from Germany, and 
some have the names 
of different towns 
stamped on them. 
No two are alike. 
We are indebted for 
this curiosity to Miss 
Fenn, The Hall, 

k- — ^j 

- .mm 



by \jQUglt 




oil from the nut, the distilling of arrack (an alco- 
holic drink), and, lastly, drawing the toddy. The 
hottoni of the cocoanut represents the malting of 
curry. There were only three of these cocoa nuts 
made — two were shown at the Paris Exhibition, 
and the other is in my possession," Photo, by 
Fowls and Mays Birmingham. 

This extraordinary timepiece may be seen in the 
grounds of the waterworks at Detroit, The clock- 
Sice is composed of flowers and plants, which are 
changed according to the season. The clock itself in 
run by water -power, and keeps correct time. We 
have received this photo* from Mr. T. E- Bland, of 
Hamilton, Ontario, whose sister was the photographer. 

Mr. R. B. Main, of BirchfieMs, Birmingham, writes 
as follow! : " This cocoanut came into my possession 
whilst I was residing in Ceylon. It is an ordinary 
cocoanut, carved by a Singalese carpenter with a pen- 
knife at the age of seventy. The carving represents 
the different uses that the cocoanut is put lo by the 
natives. Firstly, picking the fruit, extracting the 

Minneapolis has the honour of inventing a new 
method of photographic grouping. The contributor 
of this example, with the modesty of genius, desires 
lo withhold his name. He says \ H These are a group 
of Minneapolis's fairest girls + They were taken while 
they were all lying on the floor with their heads 
together, and the Kodak suspended from the ceiling." 

"This," says Mrs, W. Scbultz, of Summit, N.J., 
who sends the phuto. , " does not represent a dancing 
cat, but is a snap-shot I took from inside the hall as 
(he cat was climbing up the screen door, a favourite 
amusement of his. The wire screen* being so fine, 
does not show against the strong light of the sky." 




C* f\r\tn\i> Original from 



(See page 25a) 

by Google 

Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xviii. 


No. 105. 

The Purple Terror.* 

By Fred. M. White. 

LETT'S instructions were 
devoid of problems, physical 
or otherwise. To convey a 
letter from Captain Driver of 
the Yankee Doodle^ in Porto 
Rico Bay, to Admiral I-ake on the other side of 
the isthmus, was an apparently simple matter. 

"All- you have to do," the captain re- 
marked, " is to take three or four men with 
you in case of accidents, cross the isthmus 
on foot, and simply give this letter into the 
hands of Admiral Lake. By so doing we 
shall save at least four days, and the 
aborigines are presumedly friendly." 

The aborigines aforesaid were Cuban 
insurgents. Little or no strife had taken 
place along the neck lying between Porto 
Rico and the north bay where Lake's flag- 
ship lay, though the belt was known to be 
given over to the disaffected Cubans. 

" It is a- matter of fifty miles through 
practically- unexplored country," Scarlett 
replied ; " and there's a good deal of the 
family quarrel in this business, sir. If the 
Spaniards hate us, * the Cubans are not 
exactly enamoured of our flag." 

Captain Driver roundly denounced the 
whole pack of them. 

"Treacherous thieves to a man," he said. 
" I don't suppose your progress will have 
any brass bands and floral arches to it. And 
they tell me the forest is pretty thick. But 
you'll get there all the same. There is the 
letter, and you can start as soon as you like." 

" I may pick my own men, sir ? " 

" My dear fellow, take whom you please. 
Take the mastiff, if you like." 

"I'd like the mastiff," Scarlett replied;: 
" as he is* practically my own, I thought you 
would not object." 

Will Scarlett began to glow as the prospect 
of adventure stimulated his imagination. 
He was rather a good specimen of West 

* Copyright, 1899, by George Newnes, 1 
Vol. xviii.— 31. 

Digitized by \j009 Ic 

Point naval dandyism. He had brains at 
: the back of his smartness, and his geological 
and botanical knowledge were going to prove 
of considerable service to a grateful country 
when • said grateful country should have 
passed beyond the rudimentary stages of 
colonization. And there was some disposi- 
tion to envy Scarlett on the part of others 
floating for the past month on the liquid 
prison of the sapphire sea. 

A warrant officer, Tarrer by name, plus 
two A.B.'s of thews and sinews, to say 
nothing of the dog, completed the exploring 
party. By the time that the sun kissed the 
tip of the feathery hills they had covered 
some six miles of their journey. From the 
first Scarlett had been struck by the abso- 
lute absence of the desolation and horror of 
civil strife. Evidently the fiery cross had not 
been carried here ; huts and houses were 
intact; the villagers stood under sloping eaves, 
and regarded the Americans with a certain 
sullen curiosity. 

" We'd better stop for the night here," said 

They had come at length to a village that 
boasted some pretensions. An adobe chapel 
at one end of the straggling street was faced 
by a wine-house at the other. A padre, with 
hands folded over a bulbous, greasy gabardine, 
bowed gravely to Scarlett's salutation. The 
latter had what Tarrer called "considerable 

"We seek quarters for the night," said 
Scarlett. " Of course, we are prepared to pay 
for them." 

The sleepy padre nodded towards the 

* " You will find fair accommpdation there," 
he said. " We are friends of the Americanos." 

Scarlett doubted the fact, and passed on 
with florid thanks. So far, little signs of 
friendliness had been encountered on the 
march. Coldness, suspicion, a suggestion of 
fear, but no friendliness to be embarrassing. 

united, in the United States of America. 
■_■ l I L| II I >.1 1 TTQ m 




The keeper of the wine-shop had his 
doubts. He feared his i>oor accommodation 
for guests so distinguished. A score or more 
of picturesque, cutthroat-looking rascals with 
cigarettes in their mouths lounged sullenly in 
the bar. The display of a brace of gold 
dollars enlarged mine host's opinion of his 
household capacity. 

" I will do my best, senors, ! ' he said* 
41 Come this way." 

So it came to pass that an hour after 
twilight Tarrer and Scarlett were seated in 
the open amongst the oleanders and the 
trailing gleam of the fire-flies, discussing 
cigars of average merit and a native wine 
that was not without virtues. The long bar 
of the wine-house was brilliantly illuminated ; 
from within came shouts of laughter mingled 
with the ting, tang of the guitar and the 
rollicking clack of the castanets. 

44 They seem to be happy in there," Tarrer 
remarked, " It isn't all daggers and ball in 
this distressful country." 

A certain curiosity came over Scarlett. 

u It is the duty of a good officer,*' he said, 
" to lose no opportunity of acquiring useful 
information. Let us join the giddy throng, 

Tarrer expressed himself with enthusiasm 
in favour of any amusement that might be 
going. A montfvs idleness on shipboard 
increases the appetite for that kind of thing 
wonderfully. The long bar was comfortable, 
and filled with Cubans who took absolutely 
no notice of the intruders. Their eyes were 
turned towards a rude stage at the far end 
of the bar, whereon a girl was gyrating in a 
dance with a celerity and grace that caused 
the wreath of flowers around her shoulders 
to resemble a trem- 
bling zone of purple 

11 A wonderfully 
pretty girl and a 
wonderfully pretty 
dance," Scarlett mur- 
mured, when the 
motions ceased and 
the girl leapt grace- 
fully to the ground. 
tc Largesse, I expect. 
I thought so* Well, I'm 
good for a quarter/' 

The girl came for- 
ward, extending a ' 
shell prettily. She 
curtsied before Scar- 
lett and fixed her dark, 
liquid eyes on his. As 

he smiled and dropped his quarter -dollar into 
the shell a coquettish gleam came into the 
velvety eyes. An ominous growl came from 
the lips of a bearded ruffian close by. 

" Othello's jealous," said Tarrer. "Look 
at his face/ 7 

" I am better employed," Scarlett laughed. 
11 That was a graceful dance, pretty one. I 
hope you are going to give us another one 
presently— — " 

Scarlett paused suddenly. His eyes had 
fallen on the purple band of flowers the girl 
had twined round her shoulder. Scarlett 
was an enthusiastic botanist ; he knew most 
of the gems in Flora's crown, but he had 
never looked upon such a vivid wealth of 
blossom before. 

The flowers were orchids, and orchids of 
a kind unknown to collectors anywhere. On 
this point Scarlett felt certain. And yet this 
part of the world was by no means a 
difficult one to explore in comparison with 
New Guinea and Sumatra, where the rarer 
varieties had their homes. 

The blooms were immensely large^ far 
larger than any flower of the kind known to 
Europe or America, of a deep pure purple, 
with a blood-red centre. As Scarlett gazed 
upon them he noticed a certain cruel ex- 
pression on the flower. Most orchids have a 
kind of face of their own; the purple blooms 
had a positive expression of ferocity and 
cunning. They exhumed, too, a queer, sickly 
fragrance. Scarlett had smelt something like 
it before, after the Battle of Manila. The 
perfume was the perfume of a corpse, 

11 And yet they are magnificent flowers," 
said Scarlett. " Won't you tell me where 
you got them from, pretty one?" 

■'■'■h'iHl Wfth 




by Google 





The girl was evidently flattered by the 
attention bestowed upon her by the smart 
young American. The bearded Othello 
alluded to edged up to her side. 

" The seiior had best leave the girl alone," 
he said, insolently. 

Scarlett's fist clenched as he measured the 
Cuban with his eyes. The Admiral's letter 
crackled in his breast-pocket, and discretion 
got the best of valour. 

" You are paying yourself a poor compli- 
ment, my good fellow," he said, " though I 
certainly admire your good taste. Those 
flowers interested me." 

The man appeared to be mollified. His 
features corrugated in a smile. 

"The senor would like some of those 
blooms?" he asked. "It was I who pro- 
cured them for little Zara here. I can show 
you where they grow." 

Every eye in the room was turned in 
Scarlett's direction. It seemed to him that 
a kind of diabolical malice glistened on every 
dark face there, save that of the girl, whose 
features paled under her healthy tan. 

" If the senor is wise," she began, " he 
will not " 

" Listen to the tales of a silly girl," 
Othello put in, menacingly. He grasped the 
girl by the arm, and she winced in positive 
pain. " Pshaw, there is no harm where the 
flowers grow, if one is only careful I will 
take you there, and I will be your guide to 
Port Anna, where you are going, for a gold 

All Scarlett's scientific enthusiasm was 
aroused. It is not given to every man to 
present a new orchid to the horticultural 
world. And this one would dwarf the finest 
plant hitherto discovered. 

" Done with you," he said ; " we start at 
daybreak. I shall look to you to be ready. 
Your name is Tito? Well, good-night, 

As Scarlett and Tarrer withdrew the girl 
suddenly darted forward. A wikl word or 
two fluttered from her lips. Then there 
was a sound as of a blow, followed by a 
little, stifled cry of pain. 

"No, no," Tarrer urged, as Scarlett half 
turned. " Better not. They are ten to one, 
and they are no friends of ours. It never 
pays to interfere in these family quarrels. I 
daresay, if you interfered, the girl would be 
just as ready to knife you as her jealous 

" But a blow like that, Tarrer ! " 

" It's a pity, but I don't see how we can 
help it. Your business is the quick dispatch 

of the Admiral's letter, not the squiring of 

Scarlett owned with a sigh that Tarrer was 

It was quite a different Tito who presented 
himself at daybreak the following morning. 
His insolent manner had disappeared. He 
was cheerful, alert, and he had a manner full 
of the most winning politeness. 

" You quite understand what we want," 
Scarlett said. " My desire is to reach Port 
Anna as soon as possible. You know the 

" Every inch of it, senor. I have made 
the journey scores of times. And I shall 
have the felicity of getting you there early 
on the third day from now." 

" Is it so far as that ? " 

"The distance is not great, senor. It is 
the passage through the woods. There 
are parts where no white man has been 

"And you will not forget the purple 
orchids ? " 

A queer gleam trembled like summer 
lightning in Tito's eyes. The next instant it 
had gone. A time was to come when 
Scarlett was to recall that look, but for the 
moment it was allowed to pass. 

" The senor shall see the purple orchid," 
he said ; " thousands of them. They have a 
bad name amongst our people, but that is all 
nonsense. They grow in the high trees, and 
their blossoms cling to long, green tendrils. 
These tendrils are poisonous to the flesh, and 
great care should be taken in handling them. 
And the flowers are quite harmless, though 
we call them the devil's poppies." 

To all of this Scarlett listened eagerly. He 
was all-impatient to see and handle the 
mysterious flower for himself. The whole 
excursion was going to prove a wonderful 
piece of luck. At the same time he had to 
curb his impatience. There would be no 
chance of seeing the purple orchid to-day. 

For hours they fought their way along 
through the dense tangle. A heat seemed 
to lie over all the land like a curse — a blister- 
ing, sweltering, moist heat with no puff of 
wind to temper its breathlessness. By the 
time that the sun was sliding down, most of 
the party had had enough of it. 

They passed out of the underwood at 
length, and, striking upwards, approached a 
clump of huge forest trees on the brow of a 
ridge. All kinds of parasites hung from the 
branches; there were ropes and bands of 
green, and high up a fringe of purple glory 

by K: 



■--■I I '-1 1 1 I Q I 




that caused Scarlett's pulses to leap a little 

** Surely that is the purple orchid?" he 

Tito shrugged his shoulders contemptu- 

" A mere straggler or two," he said, " and 
out of our reach in any case. The senor will 
have all he wants and more to-morrow." 

" But it seems 
to me," said Scar- 
lett, "that I 
could " 

Then he paused. 
The sun like a 
great glowing 
shield was shining 
full behind the 
tree with its crown 
of purple, and 
showing up every 
green rope and 
thread clinging to 
the branches with 
the clearness of 
liquid cry s tal. 
Scarlett saw a net- 
work of green 
cords like a huge 
spider's web, and 
in the centre of it 
was not a fly, but 
a human skeleton 1 

The arms and 
legs were stretched 
apart as if the 
victim had been 
'■■ruri hY<L Tin: 
wrists and ankles 
were bound in the 
cruel web. Frag- 
ments of tattered 
clothing fluttered 
in the faint breath 
of the evening 

M Horrible," 
Scarlett cried, 
li absolutely hor- 
rible ! * 

li You may well 
say that/* Tarrer exclaimed, with a shudder. 
c * Like the fly in the amber or the apple 
in the dumpling, the mystery is how he got 

".Perhaps Tito can explain the mystery," 
Scarlett suggested. 

Tito appeared to be uneasy and disturbed. 
He looked furtively from one to the other of 

Digitized by OOOQ I C 


his employers as a culprit might who feels 
he has been found out But his courage 
returned as he noted the absence of sus- 
picion in the faces turned upon him. 

" I can explain/' he exclaimed, with teeth 
that chattered from some unknown terror or 
guilt. " It is not the first time that I 
have seen the skeleton* Some plant-hunter 
doubtless who came here alone. He climbed 

into the tree with- 
out a knife, and 
those green ropes 
got twisted round 
his limbs, as a 
swimmer gets 
entangled in the 
weeds. The more 
he struggled, the 
more the cords 
hound him. He 
would call in vain 
for anyone to 
assist him here* 
And so he must 
have died." 

The explanation 
was a plausible 
one, but by no 
means detracted 
from the horror 
of the discovery. 
For some time 
the party pushed 
their way on in 
the twilight, till 
the darkness de- 
scended suddenly 
like a curtain. 

" We will camp 
here/' Tito said ; 
i% it is high, dry ground, 
Lind we have this belt 
of trees above us. There 
is no better place than 
this for miles around. 
In the valley the miasma 
is dangerous.:' 

As Tito spoke lie 
struck a match, and 
soon a torch flamed up. 
The little party were 
on a small plateau, fringed by trees. The 
ground was dry and hard, and, as Scarlett 
and his party saw to their astonish- 
ment, littered with bones. There were 
skulls of animals and skulU of human beings, 
the skeletons of birds, the frames of beasts 
both great and small It was a weird, 

shuddering sight , , 

Original from 





u We can't possibly stay here," Scarlett 

Tito shrugged his shoulders. 

"There is nowhere else/' he replied. 
" Down in the valley there are many dangers. 
Further in the woods are the snakes and 
jaguars. Bones are nothing, Peuf, they 
can be easily cleared away. 51 

They had to be cleared away, and there 
was an end of the matter. For the most 
part the skeletons were white and dry as air 
and sun could make them. Over the dry, 
calcined mass the huge fringe of trees 
nodded mournfully. With the rest, Scarlett 
was busy scattering the mocking frames 
aside. A perfect human skeleton 
lay at his feet. On one finger 
something glittered— a signet ring. 
As Scarlett took it in his hand he 

" I know this ring ! " he ex- 
claimed ; " it belonged to Pierre 
Anton, perhaps the most skilled 
and intrepid plant -hunter the 
far din des Plan its ever employed. 
The poor fellow was by way of 
being a friend of mine. He met 
the fate that he always antic ipated." 

"There must have been a rare 
holocaust here," said Tarrer, 

" It beats me/ J Scarlett re- 
sponded. By this time a large 
circle had been shifted clear of 
human and other remains. By the 
light of the fire loathsome insects 
could be seen scudding and strad- 
dling away, "It beats me entirely. 
Tito, can you offer any explanation ? 
If the bones w T ere all human I 
could get some grip of the problem. 
But when one comes to birds and 
animals as well ! Do you see that 
the skeletons lie in a perfect circle, 
starting from the centre of the 
clump of trees above us ? What 
does it mean ? " 

Tilo professed utter ignorance 
of the subject. Some years before 
a small tribe of natives invaded the penin- 
sula for religious rites, They came from a 
lon^ r way off in canoes, and wild stories were 
told concerning them. They burnt sacrifices, 
no doubt 

Scarlett turned his back contemptuously 
on this transparent tale. His curiosity was 
aroused. There must be some explanation, 
for Pierre Anton had been seen of men 
within the last ten years. 

" There's something uncanny about this," 

Digitized by G< 

he said, to Tarrer, " I mean to get to the 
bottom of it T or know why." 

"As for me," said Tarrer, with a cavernous 
yawn, " I have but one ambition, and that 
is my supper, followed by my bed," 


Scarlett lay in the light of the fire look- 
ing about him. He felt restless and uneasy, 
though he would have found it difficult to 
explain the reason. For one thing, the air 
trembled to strange noises. There seemed 
to be something moving, writhing in the forest 
trees above his head. More than once it 
seemed to his distorted fancy that he could 


see a squirming knot of green snakes in 

Outside the circle, in a grotto of bones, 
Tito lay sleeping. A few moments before 
his dark, sleek head had been furtively raised, 
and his eyes seemed to gleam in the flicker- 
ing firelight with malignant cunning. As he 
met Scarlett's glance he gave a deprecatory 
gesture and subsided. 

i( What the deuce does it ail mean ? 3! 

Scarlett muttered. "I feel certain yonder 
Unginal from 




rascal is up to some mischief. Jealous still 
because I paid his girl a little attention. But 
he can't do us any real harm. Quiet, there ! " 

The big mastiff growled and then whined 
uneasily. Even the dog seemed to be con- 
scious of some unseen danger. He lay down 
again, cowed by the stern command, but he 
still whimpered in his dreams. 

"I fancy I'll keep awake for a spell," 
Scarlett told himself. 

For a time he did so. Presently he began 
to slide away into the land of poppies. He 
was walking amongst a garden of bones which 
bore masses of purple blossoms. Then 
Pierre Anton came on the scene, pale and 
resolute as Scarlett had always known him ; 
then the big mastiff seemed in some way to 
be mixed up with the phantasm of the dream, 
barking as if in pain, and Scarlett came to his 

He was breathing short, a beady perspira- 
tion stood on his forehead, his heart 
hammered in quick thuds — all the horrors of 
nightmare were still upon him. In a vague 
way as yet he heard the mastiff howl, a real 
howl of real terror, and Scarlett knew that he 
was awake. 

Then a strange thing happened. In the 
none too certain light of the fire, Scarlett 
saw the mastiff snatched up by some invisible 
hand, carried far on high towards the trees, 
and finally flung to the earth with a crash. 
The big dog lay still as a log. 

A sense of fear born of the knowledge of 
impotence came over Scarlett ; what in the 
name of evil did it all mean? The smart 
scientist had no faith in the occult, and yet 
what did it all mean ? 

Nobody stirred. Scarlett's companions 
were soaked and soddened with fatigue ; the 
rolling thunder of artillery would have scarce 
disturbed them. With teeth set and limbs 
that trembled, Scarlett crawled over to the 

The great, black-muzzled creature was 
quite dead. The full chest was stained and 
soaked in blood ; the throat had been cut 
apparently with some jagged, saw-like instru- 
ment away to the bone. And, strangest 
thing of all, scattered all about the body was 
a score or more of the great purple orchid 
flowers broken off close to the head. A hot, 
pricking sensation travelled slowly up Scar- 
lett's spine and seemed to pass out at the 
tip of his skull. He felt his hair rising. 

He was frightened. As a matter of honest 
fact, he had never been so horribly scared in 
his life before. The whole thing was so 
mysterious, so cruel, so bloodthirsty. 

by Google 

Still, there must be some rational explana- 
tion. In some way the matter had to do 
with the purple orchid. The flower had an 
evil reputation. Was it not known to these 
Cubans as the devil's poppy ? 

Scarlett recollected vividly now Zara's 
white, scared face when Tito had volunteered 
to show r the way to the resplendent bloom ; 
he remembered the cry of the girl and the 
blow that followed. He could see it all now. 
The girl had meant to warn him against some 
nameless horror to which Tito was leading 
the small party. This was the jealous 
Cuban's revenge. 

A wild desire to pay this debt to the utter- 
most fraction filled Scarlett, and shook him 
with a trembling passion. He crept along 
in the drenching dew to where Tito lay, and 
touched his forehead with the chill blue rim 
of a revolver barrel. Tito stirred slightly. 

" You dog 1 " Scarlett cried. " I am going 
to shoot you." 

Tito did not move again. His breathing 
was soft and regular. Beyond a doubt the 
man was sleeping peacefully. After all he 
might be innocent ; and yet, on the other 
hand, he might be so sure of his quarry that 
he could afford to slumber without anxiety 
as to his vengeance. 

In favour of the latter theory was the fact 
that the Cuban lay beyond the limit of what 
had previously been the circle of dry bones. 
It was just possible that there was no danger 
outside that pale. In that case it would be 
easy to arouse the rest, and so save them 
from the horrible death which Tiad befallen 
the mastiff. No doubt these were a form of 
upas tree, but that -would not account for 
the ghastly spectacle in mid-air. 

" I'll let this chap sleep for the present," 
Scarlett muttered. 

He crawled back, not without misgivings, 
into the ring of death. He meant to wake 
the others and then wait for further develop- 
ments. By now his senses were more alert 
and vigorous than they had ever been before. 
A preternatural clearness of brain and vision 
possessed him. As he advanced he saw 
suddenly falling a green bunch of cord that 
straightened into a long, emerald line. It 
was triangular in shape, fine at the apex, and 
furnished with hooked spines. The rope 
appeared to dangle from the tree overhead ; 
the broad, sucker-like termination was evi- 
dently soaking up moisture. 

A natural phenomenon evidently, Scarlett 
thought. This was some plant new to him, 
a parasite living amongst the tree-tops and 
drawing life and vigour by means of these 

U 1 1 I U I II.' 




some infernal 
business. He 
quiver, he saw 

forward like a pen- 

green, rope-like ante rinse designed by Nature 
to soak and absorb the heavy dews of night. 

For a moment the logic of this theory was 
soothing to Scarlett's distracted nerves, but 
only for a moment, for then he saw at 
regular intervals along the green rope the big 
purple blossoms of the devil's poppy. 

He stood gasping there, utterly taken 
aback for the moment. There must be 
juggling behind all this 
saw the rope slacken and 
it swing 
and the next 
it had passed 
the shoulders 
of a sleeping seaman. 

Then the green root 
became as the arm of 
an octopus. The line 
shook from end to end 
like the web of an 
angry spider when in- 
vaded by a wasp, It 
seemed to grip the 
sailor and tighten, and 
thtrn, before Scarlett's 
affrighted eyes, the 
sleeping man was 
raised gently from the 

Scarlett jumped 
forward with a desire 
to scream hysterically. 
Now that a comrade 
lvas in danger he was 
no longer afraid* He 
whipped a jack-knife 
from his pocket and 
slashed at the cruel 
cord. He half ex pec ted 
to meet with the stout- 
ness of a steel strand, 
but to his surprise 
the feeler snapped like 
a carrot, bumping the 

sailor heavily on the "the sleeting man was raised gently from the ground, 


He sat up, rubbing his eyes vigorously. 

"That you, sir?" he asked "What is 
the matter?" 

u For the love of God, get up at once and 
help me to arouse the others," Scarlett said, 
hoarsely. "We have come across the devil's 
workshop. All the horrors of the inferno 
are invented here/' 

The bluejacket struggled to his feet* As 
he did so, the clothing from his waist down- 
wards slipped about his feet, clean cut 
through by the teeth of the green parasite. 

All around the body of the sailor blood 
oozed from a zone of teeth- marks, 

Two<Tclock-in-the-morning courage is a 
virtue vouchsafed to few. The tar, who 
would have faced an ironclad cheerfully, 
fairly shivered with fright and dismay. 

" What does it mean, sir ? " he cried. 

« IVe been " 

"Wake the others," Scarlett screamed; 
" wake the others." 

Two or three more green tangles of rope 
came tumbling to the ground, straightening 
and quivering in- 
stantly. 'I 1 he purple 
blossoms stood out 
like a frill upon them* 
Like a madman Scar- 
lett shouted, kicking 
his companions with- 
out mercy. 

They were all awake 
at last, grumbling and 
moaning for their lost 
slumbers. All 
this time Tito 
had never 

< I don't 
understand it 
at all, M said 

" Come from 
under those 
trees/' said 
Scarlett, "and 
I will endea- 
vour to ex- 
plain* Not that 
you will believe 
me for a mo- 
ment. No man 
can be expect- 
ed to believe 
the awful 
nightmare I 
am going to 
tell you." 
Scarlett proceeded to explain. As he 
expected, his story was followed with marked 
incredulity, save by the wounded sailor, who 
had strong evidence to stimulate his other- 
wise defective imagination. 

"I can't believe it," Tarrer said, at length. 
They were whispering together beyond ear- 
shot of Tito, whom they had no desire to 
arouse for obvious reasons. " This is some 
diabolical juggling of yonder rascally Cuban. 
It sceniss impossible that those slender green 
cords coul^ngfrial from 



Scarlett pointed to the centre of the circle. 
" Call the dog," he said, grimly, " and see 
if he will come." 

" I admit the point as far as the poor old 
mastiff is concerned. But at the same time 
I don't — however, I'll see for myself." 

By this time a dozen or more of the 
slender cords were hanging pendent from the 
trees. They moved from spot to spot as if 
jerked up by some unseen hand and de- 
posited a foot or two farther. With the great 
purple bloom fringing the stem, the effect 
was not unlovely save to Scarlett, who could 
see only the dark side of it. As Tarrer spoke 
he advanced in the direction of the trees. 

" What are you going to do ? " Scarlett 

" Exactly what I told you. I am going to 
investigate this business for myself." 

Without wasting further words Scarlett 
sprang forward. It was no time for the 
niceties of an effete civilization. Force was 
the only logical argument to be used in a 
case like this, and Scarlett was the more 
powerful man of the two. 

Tarrer saw and appreciated the situation. 
"No, no," he cried; "none of that. Any- 
way, you're too late." 

He darted forward and threaded his way 
between the slender emerald columns. As 
they moved slowly and with a certain stately 
deliberation there was no great danger to an 
alert and vigorous individual. As Scarlett 
entered the avenue he could hear the soak 
and suck as the dew was absorbed. 

" For Heaven's sake, come out of it," he 

The warning came too late. A whip-like 
trail of green touched Tarrer from behind, 
and in a lightning flash he was in the toils. 
The tendency to draw up anything and 
everything gave the cords a terrible power. 
Tarrer evidently felt it, for his breath came 
in great gasps. 

" Cut me free," he said, hoarsely ; " cut me 
free. I am being carried off my feet." 

He seemed to be doomed for a moment, 
for all the cords there were apparently con- 
verging in his direction. This, as a matter 
of fact, was a solution of the whole sickening, 
horrible sensation. Pulled here and there, 
thrust in one direction and another, Tarrer 
contrived to keep his feet. 

Heedless of possible danger to himself 
Scarlett darted forward, calling to his com- 
panions to come to the rescue. In less time 
than it takes to tell, four knives were at work 
ripping and slashing in all directions. 

" Not all of you," Scarlett whispered. So 

by K: 



tense was the situation that no voice was 
raised above a murmur. " You two keep 
your eyes open for fresh cords, and cut them 
as they fall, instantly. Now then." 

The horrible green spines were round 
Tarrer's body like snakes. His face was 
white, his breath came painfully, for the 
pressure was terrible. It seemed to Scarlett 
to be one horrible dissolving view of green, 
slimy cords and great weltering, purple 
blossoms. The whole of the circle was 
strewn with them. They were wet and slimy 

Tarrer had fallen forward half unconscious. 
He was supported now by but two cords above 
his head. The cruel pressure had been 
relieved. With one savage sweep of his knife 
Scarlett cut the last of the lines, and Tarrer 
fell like a log unconscious to the ground. A 
feeling of nausea, a yellow dizziness, came 
over Scarlett as he staggered beyond the 
dread circle. He saw Tarrer carried to a 
place of safety, and then the world seemed 
to wither and leave him in the dark. 

" I feel a bit groggy and weak," said Tarrer 
an hour or so later : " but beyond that this 
idiot of a Richard is himself again. So far 
as I am concerned, I should like to get even 
with our friend Tito for this." 

"Something with boiling oil in it," Scarlett 
suggested, grimly. " The callous scoundrel 
has slept soundly through the whole of this 
business. I suppose he felt absolutely cer- 
tain that he had finished with us." 

" Upon my word, we ought to shoot the 
beggar ! " Tarrer exclaimed. 

" I have a little plan of my own," said 
Scarlett, " which I am going to put in force 
later on. Meanwhile we had better get on 
with breakfast. When Tito wakes a pleasant 
little surprise will await him." 

Tito roused from his slumbers in due 
course and looked around him. His' glance 
was curious, disappointed, then full of a white 
and yellow fear. A thousand conflicting 
emotions streamed across his dark face. 
Scarlett read them at a glance as he called 
the Cuban over to him. 

" I am not going into any unnecessary 
details with you," he said. " It has come to 
my knowledge that you are playing traitor to 
us. Therefore we prefer to complete our 
journey alone. We can easily find the way 

"The senor may do as he pleases," he 
replied. "Give me my dollar and let me 
go. ;: 

Scarlett replied grimly that he had no 



2 5i 

intention of doing anything of the kind. He 
did not propose to place the lives of himself 
and his comrades in the power of a rascally 
Cuban who had played false, 

11 We are going to leave you here till we 
return," he said. "You will have plenty of 
food, you will be perfectly safe under the 
shelter of these trees, and there is no chance 
of anybody disturbing you. We are going to 
tie you up to one of these trees for the next 
four-and-twenty hours." 

All the insolence died out of Tito's face. 
His knees bowed, a cold dew came out over 
the ghastly green of his features. From the 
shaking of his limbs he might have fared 
disastrously with ague. 

*'The trees," he stammered, (i the trees, 
sefior ! There is danger from snakes, and— 
and from many 
things. There are 
other places - 

way. The skeleton hung on the tree was a 
Dutchman who had walked into the clutch of 
the purple terror innocently. And Pierre 
Anton had done the same. The suckers of 
the devils poppy only came down at night 
to gather moisture ; in the day they were 
coiled up like a spring. And anything that 
they touched they killed Ttto had watched 
more than one bird or small beast crushed 
and mauled by these cruel spines with their 
fringe of purple blossoms. 

14 How do you get the blooms ? n Scarlett 

" That is easy," Tito replied. " In the 
daytime I moisten the ground under the 
trees. Then the suckers unfold, drawn 
by the water. Once the suckers unfold one 
cuts several of them off with long knives. 

L If this place was 
safe last night it is 
safe to-day," Scarlett 
said, grimly. " I 
have quite made up 
my mind." 

Tito fought no 
longer. He fell 
forward on his 
knees, he howled 
for mercy, till Scar- 
lett fairly kicked him 
up again. 

" Make a clean 
breast of it/ 1 he 
said, "or take the 
consequences. You 
know perfectly well 
that we have found 
you out, scoundrel." 

Tito's story came in gasps. He wanted to 
get rid of the Americans, He was jealous, 
Besides, under the Americanos would Cuba 
be any better off? By no means and 
assuredly not. Therefore it was the duty of 
every good Cuban to destroy the Americanos 
where possible, 

" A nice lot to fight for," Scarlett muttered. 
"Get to the point." 

Hastened to the point by a liberal applica- 
tion of stout shoe-leather, Tito made plenary 
con fessi on, T h e se nor h i i w se 1 f had s u gges t ed 
death by medi\m of the devil 1 * poppies. 
More than on- predatory plant-hunter had 
been lured to his destruction in the same 


There is danger, of course, but nol if one 
is careful" 

"Til not trouble the devil's poppy any 
further at present," said Scarlett, "but I 
shall trouble you to accompany me to my 
destination as a prisoner. 1 * 

Tito's eyes dilated. 

a They will not shoot me?" he asked, 

" I don't know," Scarlett replied, " They 
may hang you instead. At any rate, I shall 
be bitterly disappointed if they don't end 
you one way or the other Whichever opera- 
tion it is, I can look forward to it wnh 
perfect equanimity." 

by Google 

Original from 

A Peep info "Punch? 

By J, Holt Schooling, 

[7 he PiQprietors of "Punch %] have given special per mission to reproduce tht accompanying illustrations. This 
is the first occasion when a periodical has hem mahkd to present a selection from Mr, Punch's famous pages.] 

Part IX,— 1885 to 1889. 

Music At Home. — Mrs. Smith (fortissimo, f& Jfint, Br&wn^ in one vf 
these sudden attd UHe.zfrrtfcrf frawes ivitk which Herr Srj»*&r /famttter- 
tanga is f end ef surprising hh Audience)* ""And so I gave her a Month s 
Warning on the spot ! " 


that you 

WORD as to the typographic 
shape of Mr. George du Maurier^ 
name, Mr, M. H. Spiel mann, 
the art-critic, writes to me : " May 
I suggest — for sake of accuracy- 
should print the artist's name da 
not Du Maurier? The first form 

is correct; and the artist attached importance 
to it" I do not feel quite guilty for 
having printed in earlier parts of 

this article Du Maurier in place of the correct 
du Maurier. for the reason that in my manu- 
script I see that I have often (although not 
always) written du— not Du — but I am guilty 
in so far as that I did not alter the printer's 
Du to the correct du. Kind, sunny, and 
clever George du Maurier is entitled, at the 
least, to have his name printed as he liked it 

A Veky OttTHOPnx Animal, — Rish&fi. " l>oesn , t Shy, ch P Mr. Pttridnftt" 
Htrudtaltr. "Shy* Never 1 Stop, my Lord. 1 must be Honest with 
you, t did know him Shy once — hut that was at a SnKationiAt Army 
pa&sin' by \ " {Bishop buy* t terse at once. J 

>— BY A,, C, CORliOL-LD t 1&B5. 

Euphemistic— Cuf&nef. ki I've never met with a smarter 
Drill than yourself. Sergeant, or one more thoroughly up to all 
his Duties; but you've une most objectionable halm, and that is 
your constant use of Bad Language and Swearing at the Men." 

Sergeant* ''Sir, perhaps Uma I title Sarcashue 3" 
fc— BV CMARIK5 KLHM-J, 1B85, 

by Google 

to be printed, and I make a special mention 
of this typographic detail for the guidance of 
those who may in future write the always- 
pleasant name — George du Maurier. 




11 TOO LATE ! 

A Punch sfip; a cartoon published in amkipalicn of an event 
which cjtd not exur — p«., Lhe meeting of General Gordon audi 
General Stewart it Kliartoum. {See Aa j p ] 

4— BV TbysjEL, KKiiKUArcv 7p i8&5< 

T*itgram t Thuntiay At outing. /-V& ,s"p— " Khartoum taken 
by the Mai mm. General GORDONS fate unccrlain. " 

The cartoon which follnwcd that shown in No. 4. 

5, — BV TEBMEl', FEBHLAKY 1^, 1EB5. 

Pictures r, 2, 3, 4, and 5 of this "Peep into This meeting, as we all know, never took 
1 Punch ' " show to us fine specimens of the art place, although it was confidently expected 

of four of Mr, Punch's 
famous artists — George 
du Maurier, Charles 
Keene, A. Chan trey 
Corbould, and Sir John 

Keene, in No, 2, 
was, as he always was, 
exactly right with his 
absolutely true repre- 
sentation of life and 
character when he drew 
for us the smart drill- 
sergeant, who, in reply 
to his Colonel's rebuke 
about bad language to 
the recruits, remarked : 
"Sir, perhaps I am a 
little Sarcashtie ! " 

Tenniel j ill No. 4, 
strikes a graver note 
with his cartoon show- 
ing the meeting at 
Khartoum of G en e ral 

TkKAT AT " Tut CdLlSD&RIKS/'^' Efon ft&y. 

u fib^s o Starry nad l.liucn, and some Hilk ;md 
Water for the Lady ! " 

6.— hv keeise, 186& 

to occur just when 
No. 4 was published 
— February 7, 18S5. 
Roth Generals were 
dead when this cartoon 
w T as published, and in 
the next week's issue 
Punch corrected this 
slip by the publication 
of the sombre cartoon 
" Too Late " — s e e 
No. 5 — which shows 
the Mahdi and his 
fanatic host pouring 
into Khartoum, while 
Britannia covers her 
eyes, shamed and 

YVe waited nearly 
fifteen years for Ten- 
niefs grand figure of 
Britannia here seen 
outside Khartoum to 
drop her eye-covering 

Gordon with General Sir Henry Stewart of arm and lift the sword with her other arm— 

the too-long-delayed relief expedition of 1885. this time effectually. 

>. C^c\r\o Original from 


2 54 


No. 6 is by Charles 
Keene. No. 7 is by Harry 
Furniss and No. 8 by 
Tenniel; both of these 
show us something of the 
straits of Gladstone* No. 
7 — a picture full of anima- 
tion, and wonderful in its 
fertility of ideas — was pub- 
lished February 14, 1885, 
in the week when No. 5 
was published ; there were 
ructions in that meeting 
of the Cabinet, which was 
held on February 5, 1885, 
just after the news had 
reached London of the 
capture of Khartoum by 
the Malidi, There was in- 
tense excitement in London, 
and poor Mr. Gladstone 
sits distraught, biting his 
ragged quill pen, while Mr 
Chamberlain is urging upon 
him a line of action, and almost thumping 
the argument into Gladstone's face, Sir 
William Harcourt lounges, with eyes shut 
to the uproar, at the right of the picture, 
and a big book, entitled " Harcourt on 
Himself/' is just failing on his upturned face, 

7, — BV HARBY FUR MISS! FEfitiUAKT (4, 1SS5. 

while other members of the Cabinet are assist- 
ing in the general scrimmage, or, weary of the 
turmoil, are waiting for something to turn up. 
Ten ni el's cartoon, No, B, was published April 
10, 1886 ; the old man, Gladstone, with the 
"Irish Vote* life-belt around him, is just 
plunging into the rough sea to the rescue of 
the wreck Hihernia ; it was "sink or swim/' 
and the result was sink- On April 8, 188G, 
Mr. Gladstone, just then Prime Minister for 

8.— Blf TEN MEL, A PI* II. 


11 Teach Yeer G pas' wither," Ptt — Fntfufimmw f# 
Highland Fnrtuf, vitho is an a pi jit $<mtk t and " fir-rtf 
acquaint '* with As^ant^u*}. " Mac ! Mac ! "—(in a wA/j/vr} 
— ' you're est ling it at ilie Wrong En 1 ! " 

Mac (mka is rt&t/pr foaming anything fr&m a. H gawk &fm 
Smjtgm). li Ah„ but ye dinna lc*n t >i:in, Ati pr-ruffar-r-rt I ! 

9.— i»y CHAKi.iis ueea£, i386, p , . * ( . . 

the third time, made public avowal of his 
conversion to Home Rule, and at half-past 
four o'clock on that day he walked into the 
House of Commons and, in his seventy- 



2 55 

seventh year, made a giant's speech 
or three hours and a half, moving 
for leave to introduce his Bill to 
make provision for the better 
government of Ireland — a speech 
of which Mr. McCarthy has re- 
corded, it *' did not seem to any 
listener one sentence too long," 


Youth |. ir+. 1-^r]. -on FUl HT ttLQOPirt TOIC^ 
TV UCM TBIB IisafcL-OEJTLl Ud *&IM ' ~ 


Hapfv Thought.- How to Equalise the Odds! 


Pictures 9 and 10 bring us to 
TennieVs fine cartoon, No, 11. 
Gladstone, as the Grand Old 
Falconer, is striving to lure back 
his tassel-gentle [Mr. Joseph Cham- 
berlain], who is seen flying far away 

from his accustomed perch. A tassel-gentle all by Charles Keene. Not only are they all 
is a trained male goshawk, and Mr, Glad- good jokes, but the drawings themselves are 

Mr. Gladstone trying to lure Mr. Joseph Chamberlain back to ihe 

Liberal Party, 


stone wanted 
this one badly. 
This cartoon 
was published 
May r, 1886, 
shortly after 
Mr, Chamber- 
lain had an- 
nounced his 
intention to 
withdraw from 
the Govern- 
ment on ac- 
count of his 
disapproval of 
G la dstone's 
Home Rule 

The next five 
pictures, Nos, 
12 to 16, are 

"Sui'FLV and Demand. ' — Antiquarian Gtnt, " Got any old— ah— 
Roman Weapons or Pottery latelv f " 

Droits M 'Xpect em in mac h Week, Sir,— 'ain't quite finished Rtutin 1 yet, 
Sir,— about Too$day f Sir I " 

13.— BV CHARLES KEENS, I&&6* Ori Q \ H 3 I f TO FTI 

pieces of life 
caught by this 
great artist, 
and shown to 
us at the 
moment of 
occurrence by 
reason of his 
perfect mas- 
tery of his art, 
There is a 
dainty piece 
by du Maurier 
in No* j 7, and 
a really mar- 
vellous picture 
by Charles 
Keene in No. 
1 8. It is not 
necessary to 
say anything 




about this No + iS, One reads the 
11 legend " of it, looks at the picture, 
and the absolute reality of the work 
is impressed upon one's mind — 
the rustic whose "deep thought" 
turns out to be "maistly nowt " is a 
perfect piece of work — one can say 
neither more nor less. 

In No, 19 du Maimer has a most 
amusing hit at the bag-pipes ; and 
if you want to see another master- 
piece of Charles Keene's black-and- 
white art > look at picture No* 20, 
and at the half-dismayed, half-puzzled 
bridegroom, who is told by the 
absent-minded parson, "And now 
fix your Eyes on that Mark on the 
Wall, and look pleasant!" 

C a r a city J ^ ffrst Tram/far i proffering hit Mull). tr Tak a Pench ? " 

Strand TravtihK " Na t 'm ohkeged t ye — ah dirnia tak't." 

first Tratrffier. " Man !— That"* a Pety !— Yeve Gr-r-raund Accatttmna- 

yatjoil fof't ! " 15.— BV CHARLES KEENE, 1886. 

At the. S&ssi^ns. — C&uttttL 
an Oalli, my %^od Woman!" 
tVitttftt ftmtk 

4 Do you know 1 he Nature of 

Sir! Which 

k a black eye). "I did might to. 
Covin' Garden Porter, *>ir ! ' 


** Overcast, " — They were out for a Day in the Country — 
were late at the .Station— He left 11 10 her to take 1 be Tickets 
— * Horrid Crowd — Fright full v Hat— and she was Hust]rd mul 
fluttered coautder&hly when she reached the Caniage. 

He (awl ami ctrrtifarta&te)* iim How charming the Yellow 
Goru: — — " 

SMt fin a wit/wring fan?), " You didn't 'xpeel to see it h lie, 
I s'ppox 3 " 14. — itv Charles kkene, 1887. (. 7"fl«* - r J 

The two cartoons byTenniel, Nos, 71 and 
22, relate to the famous challenge to Mr; 
Parnell made by the Times in 1887, when 
that paper published letters, believed by the 
Times to be genuine letters, which involved 
Par n til in the ghastly Phoenix Park murders 
of Lord Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke 

Shdftim; [—Lady fat Sen-sitfc Hl Emporium'}. tv How much 
a. e these — ah — I Barproven ? " 

$kflf*matt, " I mprov— hem. !— They're not t Ma'am "—ft <*tt- 
fuscdf— " not— Hoi the article you require, Ma am* They're 
I- c cicing - M gslf 5 , M a'am ! ,J I TnbUa u .'] 

by GoOgJC 

1$-— IJV.CHASCL!£5 KEENE, t&86. 




at this 
14 Thrift"] 
he says to 

in Keene's pictures* they reveal to 
you some of their many fine quali- 
ties ? Look, for example, 
thick Scot in No, 26 
— look at his face as 
you, while he presses his hurt, boot- 
less foot, " Phew-ts ! — -e-eh what a 
ding ma puir Buit wad a getten if 
a J d had it on I ! " The man is so 
entirely in earnest as to the escape 
his boot has had from severe 
damage, although his face is pinched 
with the sharp pain in his naked 

Glancing at No. 29, we come to a 

I7 + — BV DU MAL'KIER, Mf. 

later, as all the world knows, these 
so-called Parnell letters were proved 
to have been forged by Pigott, and 
so t on March 9, 1889, Pttnch pub- 
lished cartoon No. 22, which shows 
the Times doing Penance, with a 
most doleful look on its familiar 
clock-face ; a very fine cartoon — is 
it not ? 

Pictures 23, 24, and 25 are by 
du Maurier ; the last one is perhaps 
the best of the three 5 which are all 
very good. 

And now we have three Keenes 
in Nos, 26, 27, and 28, Do you 
not find that his work "grows on" 
you the more you see of it ? And 
that as soon as you get rid of the 
idea of looking for surface-prettiness 

A You kg Humanitarian* — ' l Qh, Mamma, Mamma, couldn't you 
interfere? There's a horrid Man squeezing some thins under hi& Arm,, and 
he is hurting it to ! " 

f^— A CHILLY* KlUST KXPEJCrENCE op the hag-mpks. by 
DU MAURIER, 1887. 

" Lapsvs LtWGM.**— /Wj#ji {?vh® is aisfl an tmt/wfituiie Amateur 
PhvfographtTi his mi*ut wandtring during t&t Sft-ricc). " And now fix 
your Eyes on that ft] ark on the Wall, and look pleasant I " 


Rural Fklizitw— Sympathetic Old Farstm, " Vou appear 
in deep Thought, my Friend. May 1 as k what chiefly occupies 
your Mind? " 

Cmmirymmm, M Maistly nowt I " 

18.— BV CHARLES KBBKtt, (tt?. 
Vol, XV LI L. — 33- 

by Google 

very funny picture in No, 30 by Mr. G, 
FL Jalland. The French "Sportman" is in 
trouble with his horse, and he cries, " I 
tonible— I faloff ! Stop ze Fox ! ! ! " 

Original from 

2 5 8 



t: : turn v p » * i urn. iuok him mmif Ttn. 1 '- 

J he famous challenge to Mr, Parnell made by 1 he Turn* in 
the matter of the Phcraix Park murder*. 

«_ — nv TKNNiEi. t Arm. 3p T 1887, lA/r A'a* ».] 

Published March g, 1&&9. after Pigutt had confessed to Forging 
ibe !si>- Lulled ■*Pa^IlelJ-i*tte^!i ,, lo which cartoon No, si refers. 

».— BY TEN MEL. 

Nos, 3ij 32, and 33 are by Charles Kcene, 
No* 34, by du Maurier, reminds one of the 
tale about a certain bishop who, at a public 
meeting, became greatly incensed by some of 
the statements made by his opponuits* The 
fiery bishop choked down verbal 
expression of his wrath, and turning 

to a gentleman by his side on the plat- 
form, asked him, as a lay man \ to express 
in suitable words the feelings to which he 
himself, as a bishop, dared not give verbal 

ICdlvitu ' 

Fohm, /'w/'/tc Sikml H#y (tit Cemtraf S » Gwrgt \ ^C./»"-, 

(r.S.f.j ;.£.\ t ftt\ t ttC^ *tic.J. "I say, tir:nnifKifi;i, li w..!i il 
you mind just putting on your Hat tt lit t If tir&tghtcr * H* re 
cornea Cfidgtrt— lir** awfully partioiJar— and he '^ the Captain 

33. — BV DU MAUHlg*, 1SS7. 

Fii\i> amj K'hhish,- admin (i*dtfrn/}% after a fomg /mr*c}. " Darling ! ' 

by Google 

Yes, I >:ir!in^ 
Nothing, Darling. Only Darting^ DariinR ! ** 

[ftiiffftts Old Gtntlemtmfttk quit* «&&] 

24. — iiV mj UAL'KJhKp 1GS8. 

The fine, breezy cartoon in No. 35, by 
Tennlel, shows Lord Salisbury nailing to the 
mast the Union Jack flag of " National 

Original from 



Caution v. Caution,— tl So drefu | p so economical, my dear 
TV i fie ij [ She Always locks up the Decanters when we've had 
all we want— on account of the Servants, you know t He! 
He I . . . She doesn't know I've got a Key loo I H 

^S. — DV DU M u l.'Mk, I&S8. 

Defence." This was published March 16, 
1889, anc! on March 7 Lord George 
Hamilton had stated to the House the new 
Naval Programme by which the Government 
proposed to spend ^21,000,000 sterling in 
building seventy additional ships representing 
a fighting weight of 318,000 tons* On April 4, 
1889, a resolution approving this expendi- 
ture of j£2 1,000,000 for Naval Defence was 
carried, and it is not straining the truth to 
say that this wise and bold act of finance in 
the spring of 1889, backed up as it has been 

Our Village Industrial Con put inns-,— //island {just 
home front tkt City), M My Angel !— Crying !— Whatever 1 * the 
Matter *" 

H *ift. u They've— a warded me— Prize Medal ^—{iMing)— 
" f ' my Sponge Cake ! " 

Hustand (soothingly). " And I'm quite sure it de^crv— '" 
^ Wife i hysterically^ "Oh— but— "t said— "t was —for the Best 
Specimen — n" Concrete ! h " 


during the last ten years, was to a distinctly 
appreciable degree an act that bore good 
fruit in the autumn of 1898, when the 
strength of our Navy enabled us to act so 
firmly that war between this country and a 


attkkine: Talk."' — Old Ltidy {" dozvn upon P'ollaivtrs " Jt 

"lrother T Jane?" 
a you tig Maiit 

tl Tliat young Man who U ju^t ^i>Ln^ out, ] suppose, Uyour Brother Jan* f H 
Maid, li No, 'M* Not my r>roiher n M"um P — which he's j 

-most r'spect'bte. Mum,— as I've "opes of! ! 


Thhift.— ffrghiandcr (hr had struck his foci against a 
*' stent")* ** Phew-tst— e-eh what ading ma puir Buit wad a 
getten if a'd had it on ! 1 " 

?6, — ii v CHARLES kf.ene, t&33. 

by Google 

neighbour was avoided without loss of prestige 
to England. 

No, 36, by Charles Keene, illustrates an 

Original from 



Awkward Revelations, — FJfie* il fleorgy and J haw been downstair* 
in the Dining -roam, Mr. Mitcham. We*ve been playing Husband and 

Mr. MitcJutm. u Howdfd you do that, my dear?'* 

R0&* ** Why, Gcor^y sat at one end of the Table, and I sat at the other ; 
and (jeorijj said* ' This Fosd isn't fit to tat !' and I said, l It's ail you'll 
feet 1 ' And Georgy said, * Dam ! ' and I got up and left the Room ! " 


amusing argumentation between a musical curate 
and his practical rector; and now, in Nos. 37 and 
38, we have two very clever pieces of work by 
Mr. Harry Furniss. 

Mr, Furniss did a series of these Puzzle- Headed 
People for Mr, Punch ; these two were published 
in 1889, and I 
remember quite 
well how eagerly 
1 used to look 
each week for 
the next one. Of 
the series pub- 
lished, the two 
shown here are 
perhaps the best, 
and No. 37 is 
probably the 
better one of 
t he so two. The 

more you look at this "All Har- 
courts " head, the more you admire 
Mr. Kumiss's wonderful ingenuity 
and animation. You look and look 
and look at this head, and as you 
look, wherever you look, Harcourts 
spring up like the armed men from 
the dragon's teeth that brave Jason 
sowed in the furrowed field of 
Mars. You know what Jason did : 
he threw a stone among these 
armed men, and thty fell omupan 
the other until their formidable 
ranks were destroyed. Was Mr, 
Furniss a bit of a prophet when 
in 1889 he made this remarkable 
picture ? 

U Sua U MTBD. — /> fidfgrvQtn it rcmuit>u$Iy j. ' 
11..C »crt-uus TWHng*" 

Bride f Widow— Jirmiy). '* Never was yet 1 
31.— KY t:iJAi;j.i:> Ki.h.M-:., 1B89. 


" Le Sihjktmas."-" Hi ! ! Hi !! Stop rv Chassc I 1 tumble— I fatuiT I 
Step 3f Foa- t * : " 30.— HV MR. G, H.>, iB&S. 

Even in the 

signature to No. 
37, Harry Fur- 
niss has made 
the letters to 
be profile like- 
nesses of Sir 
William Har- 
court, and the 
black dash 
under the signa- 

,; The Other Wav A holt/"— Irate Passenger fas Trmim is morning fljff), 
Ll Why the didn't you put my Lu^n:^c in us I loJd you— you old——" 

Pwttr. " ¥,— h n Man ! yer Baggage e* na sic a Vuh as ycrse]. Ye re i 
the Wrung Train ! " 32.— by CHAKLEb kelne, 18BB. 

by Google 

Original from 



ture is another portrait of the politician, 
who was a leader of the Liberal party before 
" their formidable ranks were destroyed " 

Figurative.— /had tt'aitcr (the Ohi ihnt had wished for 
a stronger CAtcwj, "Hit James— tei luose tht Gorgouttiia \ " 

Vicarious 1 {tht ihe i 'ttderground Railway)* — t-rmmbd 
Old Grit t ft man fa'fo it Just * ftttmd toe fate). *' Confound 
and r>- ! " 

J* air S'tram£"fr (whit foeh the savir, hut dares rutt i'A'ffctt if)* 
11 Oh, thank you + w much ! " 

34. — uv tm MAtllllSII, ift&g. 

by reason of the members of that party 
falling (l one upon the other " to their 
common destruction, 

And see how this master- jester has treated 

5fc ' 


35, — VY TENNIEL, MARCH l6, I EEg, 

Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, In No. 38, the 
ear is a J, C, the cord of the eye-glass is a 
looped j* C- T the curve of the nostril and of 
the lip together make a J, C, a complete 

"Tui SfcRHOW Question."— Tuns/* (MtuuxJ). '* Put vhy 
do ymi object to laving a Hymn during the Collection ? " 

Rector i Pmcth&l 'h " Well„ you ^t, I preach a p kxI Sermon, 
which 1 cakuliHr should mmrthc People to an .iterate i>f Haif- 
a-Crown each ; hm I find, during a kmg Hymn, they seem to 
coo) down, ami it barely briars a Shilling :i head ! *' 


by Google 

Original from 



Joseph Chamberlain is the eye that 
is looking out so alertly through the 
eye-glass; the J. C. Home Rule 
neck-tie stands for Mr, Chamber- 
lain's notion of Irish Home Rule in 
1S89, which was not at all the same 
idea as Mr, Gladstone's, who is 
peeping out from the corner of the 
collar. The orchid in the button- 
hole is a good likeness of Mr Jesse 
Ceilings, the faithful lieutenant of 
Mr Chamberlain ; his matrimonial 
alliance with the United States is 
represented by the Stars and Stripes 
— the seams of a coat that has been 
turned are each labelled with a 
different legend — Radicalism, De- 
mocracy, Republicanism, Gladston- 
ianbm, Toryism, Chamberlainism. 
The smoke of factories makes the 
hair, the smoke from tall chimneys 
gives the slighter hair between the 
ear and the back of the neck, while 
the shaded line from the ear to- 
wards the chin is made by a screw 
— that well-made and universally- 
used screw that we have all handled 
in our carpentering at home, the 

37,— titiK. Of MK. KAKKV KL'KMSs's MAS I EKKtfclJKS. NOV KM HER J, 1S69, 

M n II ApifH f t I. I- " 1 

by Google 

proper manufacturing of which built 
up Mr. Chamberlains fortune, and 
which is an infinitely better screw than 
those that were to be had before Mr 
Chamberlain decided that screws 
should be made as they are now made. 

These are two very clever bits of 
jesting, and I show one for each of the 
two chief political parties, so that 
adherents of each side may have a 
laugh at the other's expense without 
wishing to go for the very talented 
artist who drew these two heads. 

No, 39 is by Mr. E. T, Reed, 
who has done so much amusing 
work for Mr + Punch —you know his 
famous u Prehistoric Peeps," and his 
wry witty ** Ready-made Coats (of- 
Arms) ; or (living Vro tits." 

The Tenniel cannon in No, 40 was 
published September 14. iSSu ; it has 
reference to the dock labourers' strike 
in London at that time, but Mr 
Punch's remark to the man who is 
about to kill with his knife, labelled 
"Strike," the Guinea-Fowl (Capital) 
that lays the Colden Eggs— " Don't 
liw your head, my man ! Who'd 
MiftW most if Ytw JtiV/tJ itt n is a 
remark that applies well enough to 
many other strikes than that illustrated 

Original from 




by this cartoon. No. 41, by du 
Maimer, illustrates the: risk run by 
umpires at football matches. 

39. — UV KB 

A corres[>ortdem has drawn my 
attention to the fact that the work of 
Mn Linley Samboume has not yet 
been adequately represented in these peeps 
into Punch — especially the very fine work 
done by Mr. Samboume during the years 
1S75 to 1879, which was the period covered 
by the July pan of this article. 

In justice to a very fine artist- one of the 
best of Mr. Punch's many fine artists — I 
ought to state the 
reason for this 
omission, which 
has not been an 
accidental omis- 
sion. Mr, Sam- 
bourne's beautiful 
and most impor- 
tant work is as 
well known and 
as much appreci- 
ated as Punch 
itself, and the 
main reason for 
the inadequate 


Lfe* ***% *a_ij 
Ht r. -hut \rtx font MUfi. ttl- mm watvit *rrnt irort IF rau WiLlSD rf* 


representation of his work in these pages is 
the fact that the necessary reduction in the 
size of the drawings, from large drawings to 
the small facsimiles shown here, would have 
destroyed one of the chief beauties of Mr, 
Sambourne's work, viz. : the beauty which 
this splendid artist gives to his drawings 

by the amazing 
fertility of his in- 
vention, in add- 
ing much first- 
rate and decora- 
tive detail to his 
pictures. To re- 
duce these large 
pictures to the 
very small size 
that is really 
necessary here 
would be to con- 
vert this beauty 
into a defect. 

N km E* I s. — Fnqvhith*e OM Gtntlt ma «. ' * Who's Won ? ' ' 
First F&^thtUi Pi&yer. " We've Lo*t ! '* 

/nquisitive i Uti iU'ntttman, Sl \VU:n have you got En rliat Rag?" 
Sttend fr'eothatt J'faycr. n tV Umpire ! " 

41. — BY DU MAVklFH, NOVEMbFR 73, [8B9, 

(To be continued.) 

u C*f\r\ft\x'* Original from 


Stories of the Sanctuary Club, 

By L. T. Meade and Robert Eustace. Told by Paul Cato. 


Anyone Who Looks Upon Diana Unveiled is Blind. 

HE month of October, 1893, 
will always stand out in my 
memory as the time when those 
grave and terrible troubles, 
which in the end had such 
serious consequences, began. 
Hitherto Chetwynd and I had gone on pros- 
perously, the Club was doing well, the cures 
resulting from our special treatment were 
numerous, the members were pleased with 
us and with each other; but from the day 
when Dr. Horace Kort paid us his heavy 
premium to be our third partner, these things 
gradually but surely changed. From the first 
I had disliked the man, and from the first 
I think I suspected him ; but Chetwynd was 
taken with his undoubted attainments, and, 
as we wished to extend our premises, further 
funds were necessary for the purpose. 

At any rate, the deeds of partnership were 
signed and Kort took up his residence with 
us. He was of a good half-English, half- 
German family, and had spent at least ten 
years in the great Continental schools of 
research, having taken his degree at Vienna. 
He was himself a man with considerable 
outward charm. He had a sympathetic 
manner, and a fund of vivacious and amusing 
stories. He was reserved, without having a 
trace of hardness or apparent coldness about 
him, and the members quickly assured us 
that they thought our new partner an un- 
doubted acquisition. Little did they guess 
as they looked at him that Kort was one of 
the keenest vivisectors of the day, the valued 
collaborator of Parker in some of his latest 
advances, and that those white, tapering 
fingers, which could bring music of the finest 
order out of more than one instrument, could 
also wrestle effectively with science at the 
dissecting-table and laboratory bench. 

In appearance, Kort was about thirty years 
of age, and was rather below than above the 
middle height. His face was dark and thin ; 
he had straight features and keen, somewhat 
deeply-set, eyes. He invariably dressed with 
extreme care, and was in every sense of the 
word a polished man of the world. He came 
to us in the August of '93, and a couple of 
months later, early in October, the following 
trifling incident occurred. 

One morning soon after breakfast a lady 
drove up in a closed carriage. She inquired 
for Dr. Kort, who happened to be out at the 
time. The servant informed her that either 
Chetwynd or myself would be glad to see her. 
She answered that Dr. Kort was the only 
member of the firm she wished to see. She 
was just about to drive away when the doctor 
himself came hurriedly up. I happened to 
be standing near, and I was startled at the 
change in his face. For the first time heart 
and soul seemed to breathe out of it. He 
gave an involuntary start and quickly sup- 
pressed an exclamation, whether of joy, grief, 
or anger I could not determine, then his face 
turned to an ashy pallor, and going up to the 
carriage he spoke emphatically and in a very 
low voice to its inmate. Finally I heard him 
say, " I will drive a short way back with you, 
Isobel ; you must not come in now." He 
entered the carriage, the coachman turned and 
drove back in the direction of town. 

Kort returned in the course of the morning, 
looking very much as usual. He entered 
Chetwynd's consulting - room, where I 
happened to be, and throwing himself on a 
sofa began to talk. Watching him narrowly, 
however, I observed that his hand trembled 
as he took up the morning paper to substan- 
tiate some news which he was relating to us. 
I had caught a glimpse of the occupant of the 
carriage, and I could not help wondering 
somewhat about her. She was young, so 
dark as to look almost foreign, with delicate 
features, a pale complexion, and wonderful 
blue eyes. The colour of her eyes reminded 
me more of sapphires than anything else, 
and they were sufficiently big and out of the 
common to arrest the attention of anyone. 
They gave great distinction to a face which 
in itself bore claims to beauty, and as Kort 
approached the carriage I saw them change 
and darken, but with what emotion I could 
not guess. 

That very evening, as I was busily engaged 
writing letters, Kort came into my room. 

"I want to speak to you," he said. " I am 
anxious about a case which has just been 
brought to my notice. It is that of a man 
about my own age whom I happened to 
know some years ago. He is in vt 

^ery poor 

by Google 

Original from 




circumstances and also very ill— consumptive, 
of course, I should like him to try our 
Davos treatment, and as he is much too 
poor to pay the club subscription and entrance 
fee, I propose to do this for him, if you 
and Chetwynd have no objection to his 
coming here." 

"Why, certainly not/ 1 I replied. "And it 
is kind of you to help him," I could not help 
adding. I looked at the man in some little 
astonishment. He returned my gaze, and 
smiling very gravely said, in a low voice : — 

%i Benevolence when judiciously exercised 
has its special charms ; why should 
not I enjoy those pure pleasure :..- 
well as another man ? " 

"Why not?" I answered, 
ashamed for the moment 
suspicions I entertained 
towards him. "Well, tell 
me more about your in* 
tended patient." 

" I was going to pro- 
pose," he answered, " that 
you and I should go to 
visit Philip Sherwin, at 
Pinner, to - morrow. We 
can drive over in half an 
hour. Can you manage 

I looked up my engage- 
ments, and said that it 
would be possible for me 
to do so. 

"Very well, we will go 
over immediately after 
breakfast. He is a queer 
chap, but I have taken a 
fancy to him* I met him 
first at the School of Mines 
in Jenny n Street" 

Kort went away a 
moment later, and on the 
following morning he and 
I found ourselves at Pinner. 
We were standing outside 
a neglected -looking door 
in the midst of an untidy 
paint was blistered off the 
knocker was rusty from long disuse. Of 
bells there were none. l)r, Kort raised 
the knocker, and after a moment or two 
we heard steps in the passage, the chain 
was unhooked, and the door opened by 
a thin, hectic-looking man, in an old velvet 
coat. He might have been from thirty to 
thirty-five years of age, and had the sunken 
and yet bright eyes, and the painfully clear 
complexion, of the consumptive. 

Vol. xviiL-34 

To my astonishment, the very moment the 
young man made his appea ranee Dr. Kort 
stepped forward, laid his hand on his 
shoulder, and said, in a low, emphatic 
voice : — 

" Now, Philip, be reasonable, forget old 
prejudices, and receive me as the friend 
which I truly am. Let me introduce you to 
Dr. Cato, the head of the celebrated Sanc- 
tuary Club at Hampstead, I have heard of 
your illness, and believe that if there is a 
place in the world which offers you a chance of 
cure it is that Club, May we both come in ?" 


garden. The 
wood and the 

The young man's face grew whiter than 
ever, he looked full at Kort, and then said, 
slowly, and with a most hitter emphasis :— 

"I should like to take you by the throat, 
but you know I cannot," 

" Yes, I know that/' answered Kort, 
suppressing a smile, and glancing at me 
with a significant shrug of his shoulders. 
His gesture seemed to say, "We must 
humour him ; he is not responsible for his 

I watch^ r j^ a pf^ n ^ith keen interest 




Sherwin did not speak at all for a moment; 
he looked from Kort to me, breathed quickly 
as though his emotions were almost strangling 
him, and then said, in a low voice, quite 
destitute of his former spirit ; — 

" Yes, come in if you want to. I suppose 
this is good of you, Kort, and there is 
nothing for it hut " 

"Submission," said Kort, in a low voice. 

The man did not answer at all. We had 
now entered the house. He walked on before 
us leading the way down a dark hall, and 
opening a door on the right, led us into a 
lofty room which looked out upon a large, 
neglected back garden. Glancing round I 
saw that I was in a lapidary's workshop. A 
wooden bench ran along one complete side, 
littered with many tools and instruments for 
polishing and cutting gems, In one corner 
stood a stone-cutter's lathe, and beside it a 
large safe. There was also a huge furnace, 
upon which lay several pairs of tongs and 
clay pots for melting glass. 

"This is my workshop," he 
said, turning to me; "I spend 
most of my time here*" 

" 1 see that you are still as 
mad as ever, Sherwin," said Kort. 
" Does the great discovery ap- 
proach nearer the light ? ty 

Slier wi n la ugh ed — t h ere was 
both bitterness and pathos in his 

" I am nearer to it- — much 
nearer/' he said, emphatically; 
"all I ask is that I may live 
long enough to perfect it." Then 
he added, turning to me, " I get 
this old house for a very low 
rent ; it suits my purpose admir- 
ably, and I am happy here. May 
I ask what you two gentlemen 
have really come for to-day? " 

" I heard you were ill, no 
matter how, no matter when/' 
said KorL "Dr. Cato and I are 
anxious to relieve you. We 
wish you to come to the 
Sanctuary Club." 

" I have heard of your place," 
said Sherwin, looking at me, 
"but it is only meant for the 

hospitality and become our guest at the 
Sanctuary Club." 

" But how ? I do not understand," he said, 

Kort went up to him and drew him aside. 
He said some words in a low voice which I 
could not catch ; the other man started back, 
and looked at him with indescribable aversion 
and dislike, Kort continued to speak very 
quietly, and presently I heard Sherwin say, in 
a low voice : — 

" It is distasteful, more than distasteful, but 
if what you say is true, I must submit." 

He then returned to the window where I 
was standing. 

"Do you mind examining my lungs?" he 
said " I should be very glad to get your 

I had brought my stethoscope, and imme- 
diately did what he required. I found mis- 
chief to a considerable extent in both lungs. 
Even with the treatment we proposed to adopt 
the poor fellow's days were numbered, 

"Well," he said, just glancing at me as 
he buttoned up his shirt, 
11 what is your verdict ? " 
"You are very 
ill," I replied 

; 1 am a poor man; 

rich ; I 

" We can manage that," said 
Kort, emphatically* "The trent- 
ment is the one treatment in the 
world for you, and we have both 
come here to day in order to 
implore of you to accept our 

3 y Google 




"Hopelessly ill?' 

11 1 fear so." 

"Then what is the use of my going to 
your Club?" 

"That depends altogether on how you 
look at it," I answered. "I can at least 
promise you great relief, and your life will 
certainly be much prolonged." 

He stood quite still, evidently thinking 

" Very well, I will accept," he said, after a 
moment's pause. "It is all -important for 
me that my life should be preserved. I will 
be your guest, Dr. Cato, on a condition." 

"What is that?" I asked. 

" I possess a treasure of great value ; you 
must allow me to bring it with me to the 
Club, and you must insure its being put in a 
place of safety." 

I was about to ask for further information, 
when Kort said, abruptly : " You would like 
to give your confidence to Cato, Sherwin. 
While you do so I will walk in the garden." 

As Dr. Kort spoke, he opened one of the 
French windows and went out. The moment 
he did so Sherwin uttered a sigh of relief. 

"This is all very strange and over- 
whelming," he said ; " I have not seen Kort 
for years." 

" But he is an old friend," I said. 

" He is an acquaintance of some years' 
sending," replied Sherwin, in a reserved 
TOice. "His visit to-day has startled me 
very much, and if it were not for the sake of 
Isobel " 

" Isobel ! " I could not help exclaiming, 
startled by the coincidence of names. 

" Why, do you know her ? " he said ; 
" but you cannot." 

" A lady of that name called to see Dr. 
Kort yesterday at the Sanctuary Club, that 
is all," I answered. 

" Ah," he said, " I thought as much. I 
would humble myself even more than I am 
about to do, for her sake. But let us change 
the conversation. I want to give you my 
confidence, not with regard to Isobel, but in 
connection with another matter." 

" I am quite willing to listen," I replied. 

" May I ask first," he began, "if you know 
anything about precious stones ?" 

41 Not much," 1 answered. 

" Perhaps you are not then aware that 
the majority are allotropic forms of either 
elements or chemical compounds crystallized 
in the earth at some period of the world's 
history. These crystallizations take place 
under conditions of great pressure and heat. 
Now, scientists, following out this idea, have 

Digitized by G< 

recently succeeded in making diamonds by 
the crystallization of carbon." 

" I did not know how the artificial diamond 
was made," I replied, " but I have heard of 
it, of course." 

" Up to the present," he continued, a flush 
of excitement coming into his cheeks, " the 
only gem which has been made artificially 
is the diamond. Now, please listen — the 
sapphire, ruby, topaz, emerald, and amethyst 
are all of the same chemical composition, the 
colouring ingredients alone differentiating 
them — corundum, it is called — sesquioxide 
of aluminium, you know. If that could be 
crystallized, priceless gems could be made — 
real ones, mark you, not imitations. To do 
this has been my work for the last ten 
years, and I am at last close to the right 
solution. I want to perfect it before I 
die. That is why I accept your invitation, 

Dr. Cato, and why I ." He stopped 

abruptly, clenched his hands, and made a 
significant gesture in the direction of the 

" I hate Kort," he said, dropping his voice 
to a whisper ; " you and he do not belong to 
the same world." 

" Have you reasons for making such a 
grave statement ? " I asked. 

" Yes, but I dare not and will not divulge 
them ; forget what I have said. The man is 
antipathetic to me, that is all. Now to 
return to my own story. If I succeed in 
crystallizing the sesquioxide of aluminium, I 
shall have effected a revolution in the precious 
stone trade and secured a fortune for myself. 
You will say, what does a dying man want 
with a fortune ? But I have my secret reasons 
for wishing to acquire it. Without money I 
3m powerless ; with it I can institute a law- 
suit against one of the greatest scoundrels of 
modern times. You see, therefore, how 
essential it is that my life should be 

Looking at him as he spoke, I began to 
think that Kort was right, and that he really 
was not quite responsible for his actions. He 
was intensely restless, clasping and unclasp- 
ing his painfully thin hands, and darting 
queer glances at me out of his sunken eyes. 

"Do you think you are near your great 
discovery?" I asked. 

" Yes, I am close to it, and yet it baffles 
me ; but I have at least one consolation, it 
has been made already by another." 

"You cannot be serious," I could not 
help saying. 

" I am, another has been before me in 
this discovery. The sapphire, for instance, 




has already been made by artificial means. 
Come, you don't believe me — you shall see 
for yourself." 

He went across to the safe, unlocked it, 
and pulled open the heavy doors, then he 
lifted out with an apparent effort an enormous 
mass of solid glass, the shape of an immense 
pear ; it was twice the size of a man's head, 
and must have weighed about 301b, He 
laid this glass globe down very gently on the 
table- I gazed at it with the most intense 
curiosity, for in the centre of the mass, 
towards the tapering end, was embedded the 
most enormous sapphire I had ever seen. It 
was of circular shape 3 and of the deepest 
blue, with six white lines radiating from 
the centre— these formed a sort of star. I 
uttered an exclamation* 

" What a marvellous thing," I cried " That 

matter of theory. This glass globe with the 
wonderful gem inside is so old that even the 
historical records which go back seven 
centuries are at a loss to know its origin, 
Masudy, the well-known Arabic writer and 
traveller, first makes mention of it. See what 
he says," 

Sherwin as he spoke took an old volume 
from a dusty shelf. 

" This is his work," he said, " translated 
by Athelard and printed about 1470, These 
words refer to the gem you see before you. 
The legend is translated from the Arabic." 
He read aloud slowly, pausing to give 
emphasis to his words, 

M I came not from mines, my master created 
me from earth. Feast your eyes upon my rays. 
Here I lie safe in my bed of crystal. Seek not 
to possess yourself of me, for though J am 
priceless beyond all gems f he ivho holds me 
shall never see me again. However paor you 
are, you will he poorer if you try to hold me. 
Coveted ly a thousand kings ^ no gold can buy 
me. Try to discover the secret of my 
birth, to look upon me unveiled, and 
I shall vanish from your sight." 
(l That is the old legend," he con- 
tinued, "and I believe 
it to be as true as that 
you and I both stand 
here. My impression 
is that, by some lost 
art, the sesqui oxide of 
aluminium was made 
to crystallize by being 
put into molten glass. 
On these lines I am 
working, and have been 
working for years." 

"But does the legend 
prevent you from 
breaking the glass ? " I 
continued, * 4 It must 
be a great temptation 
to hold that gem." 

"It is a temptation 
to which I am never 
going to yield/' he 



To tell 

stone must be priceless ; but how did it get 
in there ? * 

41 Have you ever heard of the great Diana 
Sapphire?" asked Sherwin, not replying 
immediately to my question, 

"Never," I said. 

** Well, it exists, and is w T ell known to all 
gem collectors. You see it before you now. 
As to how it got in there, that is a mere 

Digitized by LiQOglC 

the truth, I am afraid 
of that legend. It is not a meaningless 
jargon of words. It has been observed 
and reverenced by the possessors of this 
crystal globe for centuries. I believe that 
the sapphire inside that glass globe was 
made artificially, and that if you were to 
break the glass, the stone itself would vanish 
from sight. I believe that its crystalline 
structure is in such an extremely unstable 




condition that it depends for its existence on 
the surrounding pressure and support of the 
glass in which it was embedded. That is 
my interpretation of the legend, and it is my 
life's work to effect a reproduction." 

11 An ingenious theory, certainly," I said. 
"Would it be an unfair question to ask you 
how this interesting gem got into your pos- 
session ? " 

"The stone has been in our family for 
over two hundred years," he replied. " My 
great-greatgrandfather, who was British Con- 
sul at Cadiz, in Spain, married a Moorish 
woman of great beauty. The Moors, as 
you know, came originally from Arabia. 
An uncle of hers had the crystal containing 
the stone in his possession, and gave it to 
her on his death-bed, on the sole condition 
that she and her descendants would always 
keep the sapphire unbroken in its crystal 
bed. It was brought over to England when 
my grandfather settled here, and was given 
to me by my father on his death-bed as the 
most precious thing he could bestow upon me. 
Many times I have been tempted to break the 
glass globe and release the gem, but I shall 
never do so. Experts before now have gazed 
at this wonderful stone, and they tell me that 
it is of priceless value. As such is the case 
I have had this safe specially constructed for 
it, and I do not think there is a man in 
London who could break it open. Now, Dr. 
Cato, I will come to your Club, I will accept 
a favour from a man like Kort, I will put 
myself under your treatment, for the sole 
and only reason that I want to perfect my 
discovery, I want to handle riches, I want 
to be known to futurity as the man who 
re-discovered the crystallization of sesqui- 
oxide of aluminium, and I want to revenge 
myself on my enemy. Knowing my story, I 
dare therefore to ask of you conditions. I 
cannot part with the gem. May I bring it to 
the Sanctuary ? " 

" You may," I replied " We have a safe 
in our laboratory which I think will also defy 
the burglars' art ; you may place it there in 
perfect safety." 

"Thank you. Condition number two is 
this. May I pursue my experiments in one 
of your laboratories ? " 

" We have a small one adjoining the larger 
laboratory, which I will place at your service," 
I replied. 

He bowed gravely in acknowledgment of 
this kindness, and then said : — 

" My final and last condition is, that you 
will keep what I have now told you an 
absolute and complete secret." 

t .oogle 

" From the world, certainly," I answered ; 
"but it will be difficult to keep the fact 
of the crystal's existence from my brother 

" Kort ? " he interrupted. " Kort knows 
nearly as much about the Diana Sapphire as 
I do myself." 

"I allude to our other partner," I said, 
" Dr. Chetwynd." 

" Well," he replied, somewhat impatiently, 
"tell him just what is necessary, but no 

" I will do so," I said. 

Soon afterwards Kort and I took our leave. 

"Sherwin is a curious specimen of 
humanity," said my partner to me on our 
way back. 

" He interests me immensely," I replied 

" He has a crank, poor fellow," replied the 
doctor. "I sympathize with him sincerely. 
Once we were the greatest friends, although 
he now imagines that I am his worst enemy, 
a common case enough where the mind is 

I did not say any more. I fully believed 
myself that Sherwin was on the borderland 
between the sane and insane, but I had a 
queer impression, which was destined soon to 
be strengthened, that as far as Kort was con- 
cerned there was method in his madness. 

The next day the poor fellow arrived at the 
Club. Everything had been done for his 
comfort, and he was immediately placed in 
the artificial Davos suite of rooms. He was 
allowed, however, to go downstairs at inter- 
vals, and soon struck up a friendship with a 
member of the Club of the name of Edward 
Banpfylde. This man had been a resident 
for two or three months. He was supposed 
to have great wealth, and was a gem mer- 
chant of Hatton Garden. Banpfylde was 
suffering from intense nervous irritability, 
and the regular hours, good food, and a 
system of rest and refreshment which were 
prescribed for him were having to a certain 
extent beneficial results. But the anxiety on 
the man's face whenever he thought himself 
unwatched was very marked, and Kort once 
said to me : " I do not believe in Banpfylde's 

" But he is a millionaire," I replied. 

"So he says, but what are words, time 
will prove. He is consumed by anxiety ; 
men of his calibre have only one great 
subject of anxiety, the loss or the making of 
money. He has become great friends with 
Sherwin, however, which seems natural 
enough, as they are both so much interested 
in gems, un 




Banpfylde was about sixty years of age, 
stoutly built, with a red face, small keen 
eyes, and an irritable manner. 

There were times, however, when he could 
be both good-natured and agreeable — beyond 
doubt he pitied Sherwin, and took pains 
to add to the interest of his fast-fleeting 
life. Notwithstanding our treatment, his 
disease made rapid progress, and we ' all 
knew that he could not last many weeks ; 
he was cheerful, however, and enjoyed 
his chats with Banpfylde. The two men 
spent much time in the small laboratory 
which we had given over for Sherwin's use. 
What they did there remains a mystery, but 
I have little doubt that Sherwin confided at 
least part of his secret to Banpfylde. 

They had been together the whole of one 
day, and Sherwin had gone up to his room 
thoroughly worn out, when Chetwynd, who 
watched his languid progress upstairs, turned 
to me and said, in a low voice : — 

"Poor fellow, he may go off at any moment 
It needs but a bad fit of hemorrhage to 
settle him — he is not following out our 
directions, either, as he ought. He spends 
too much time with Banpfylde." 

" Oh, I have no doubt they have a great 
deal in common," I replied ; " they are both 
professional gem fanciers." 

" It is my opinion," said Chetwynd, " that 
Banpfylde is picking his brains. He abso- 
lutely dogs his footsteps. I don't like it — I 
hope there is no mischief brewing." 

" Mischief brewing ? " I cried. " What can 
you mean ? " 

"Well, I heard some news about our 
millionaire to-day." 

"What?" I asked. 

"Simply this. To put it plainly, he is 

" What, Banpfylde ? It cannot be true." 

" I fear it is. I happened to meet Balfour, 
of the Old Jewry City Police, this afternoon, 
and there is a queer business in the air. I 
cannot tell you exactly what he told me, but 
this country is too hot for our guest, that's 
about it. Balfour thought it right to warn 
me, knowing that Banpfylde was a member 
of our Club." 

I looked my astonishment at Chetwynd's 
news, but did not make any remark. After 
a pause he continued : " You have told me 
some of the story of the marvellous gem 
which Sherwin has brought here, and which 
is locked up for security in our safe. Now, 
putting two and two together, I don't 
believe in Banpfylde's disinterested friend- 
ship for our dying guest, but I do think 

by L^OOgle 

it possible that he may be after the gem. 
The fact is, I dislike and distrust Banp- 
fylde as much as you dislike and distrust 
our brother doctor." 

" Oh, the cases are by no means parallel, n 
I exclaimed, with some impatience, and I had 
scarcely said the words before Banpfylde and 
Sherwin came downstairs together. Sherwin 
came straight up to me. 

" I thought you were in bed," I cried. 
" No, I am restless, I could not sleep," he 
said. " I want you to give me the key of 
the safe. Banpfylde has begged of me to 
show him the Diana. If you will come 
downstairs we will get it out and he can see 
it. He is awfully keen about it," he added, 
in a whisper. 

" Show him the crystal to-morrow," I said, 
laying my hand on his wrist " Look here, 
you are feverish : do be rational and go to 

" I tell you I could not sleep, and I am 
most anxious to get Banpfylde's opinion with 
regard to the Diana ; he is a great authority. 
He has heard of the gem, of course, but has 
never seen it." 

" Very well, it is your property," I said ; 
" we will go down. By the way, have you any 
objection to Chetwynd accompanying us ? " 

" None whatever," replied Sherwin ; " I 
should like you to see the Diana Sapphire, 
Dr. Chetwynd." He bowed courteously to 
Chetwynd as he spoke, and just at that 
moment Kort made his appearance. 

" What," he cried, " not in bed yet, Sher- 
win ? This is very bad." 

" I am not going at present," said Sherwin. 
He half turned his back on Kort, and glanc- 
ing at Banpfylde, Chetwynd, and myself, 
said : — 

" Well, gentlemen, shall we proceed ? " 
As we crossed the hall to descend to the 
basements I watched Kort. He was fond of 
shrugging his shoulders ; he shrugged them 
now with a peculiar gesture and quietly 
followed us. We all entered the laboratory 
and I switched on the electric light. 

When Sherwin saw that Kort was also in 
the room, he said in a low voice to the latter : 
" You have seen the gem before, but if you 
do not find it irksome to look at it again, 
pray remain." 

11 1 shall not find it irksome," answered 
Kort ; his eyes shone with a queer light, he 
came and stood near Sherwin. We all 
clustered round the safe ; I unlocked it, and 
lifting out the great glass globe, laid it on 
the bench. 

" There you are," said Sherwin, snatching 





off the wash leather cloth that covered it, and 
stepping back. *' What do you think of the 
Diana Sapphire, Mr, Banpfylde ? " 

Banpfylde stepped forward. I heard him 
utter a sudden exclamation, and then he 
stared at the gem without speaking ; his eyes 
were widely dilated, the magnificent sapphire 
was gleaming and scintillating beneath the 
glare of the incandescents* Chetwynd, too, 
uttered a sharp exclamation, and also stepped 
forward to examine the gem. Banpfylde 
was now peering into the crystal — he turned 

* f Yes," he said, quietly, "you are quite 
right, Sherwin , there is no other stone in 
the world to equal it," 

His face, which had been deeply flushed, 
was now pale* 

" I have heard of it, of course," he con- 
tinued. "By the way, you say it has a 
curious legend attached to it. May I ask 
what it is?" 

Digitized by GOOQ I C 

"Certainly," an- 
swered Sherwin, and t 
somewhat to my aston- 
ishment, he repeated 
the old Arabic legend 
word for word — he 
evidently knew it by 

Banpfylde listened 
attentively, his eyes 
still riveted upon the 
stone. Chetwynd 
took out a note-book, 
and jotted down the 
words as Sherwin 
uttered them. 

" Now, what do 
you suppose this all 
means ? ' 3 asked Chet- 
wynd u Have you 
heard any interpreta- 
tion of that queer 
jargon ? " 

11 Never," answeied 
Sherwin ; " but I have 
made an interpretation 
for myself. Of that, 
however, I am not dis- 
posed to speak. What 
do you think of the 
legend, Mr. Banp- 
fylde ?" 

" I think," replied 
the dealer, " that the 
words are mere non- 
sense, invented to 
keep thieves from 
touching the gem. In its present state it 
would be difficult to steal it," 

" But how do you suppose it got inside 
the crystal ? " I asked. 

"It was never put there by the hand of 
man," ho replied, instantly. "This external 
crystalline covering is, I believe, not glass 
or crystal ; I believe it to be a kind of ex- 
ceedingly pure quartz — gneiss, you know. 
Sapphires are frequently found embedded 
in this mineral. P believe that it has 
been cut and polished to resemble this 
pear shape. If the crystal were mine I 
should break it open and chance it," con- 
tinued Banpfylde. 

I happened at that moment to glance at 
Chetwynd, who was still bending over the 
gem, peering into the crystal, and examining 
it with the deepest interest. His face looked 
full of queer excitement 

" What do you suppose the value of that 
sapphire would be if it were extracted?" 




asked Kort, suddenly, of Banpfylde, Up to 
the present he had not uttered a word. 
Banpfylde turned and stared at him. 

u Nearer forty than thirty thousand pounds," 
he exclaimed. "By the way, Mr. Sherwin/' 


he continued, "do you feel inclined to part 
with it ? It will make you a rich man." 

"Certainly not/* he answered, flushing* 

"But why?" 

"I decline to tell my reasons. I thank 
you for your opinion. We will put the 
crystal away now, Dr. Cato." 

The next day Sherwin was much worse. 
He was nosv obliged, to keep to his bed, 
as the slightest movement brought on sharp 
attacks of hemorrhage. 

There came a night about a fortnight later 
when he lay looking like a mere shadow. 
His hollow eyes fixed themselves on my face. 
He said, after a pause : "I shall die, Dr. Cato, 
without fulfilling my life-work, I have no 
property to leave behind me, and no friends 
to leave it to." 

** But what about the Diana Sapphire?" I 

11 My solicitors will take charge of it until 

Digitized by G< 

the heir, whose property it is, comes to claim 
it. My solicitors understand," he added. 

His voice was so faint I could scarcely 
catch the words. I forbore to question him 
further and went downstairs. In the hall I 
met Chetwynd. 

Chetwynd laid his 
hand on my arm. 

" By the way," he 
said, " I have been 
making some interesting 
experiments with regard 
to the sapphire," 

"Indeed! 1 * I ex- 
claimed, "Of what 
nature ? " 

"This has been a 
day of strange things 
altogether," he con- 
tinued "Come to my 
room, will you? I have 
something I want to 

I followed him. 
"To begin with," 
he commenced, the 
moment we found our- 
selves alone, "have you 
noticed Banpfylde to- 

" Not specially," I 
answered ; " is anything 
fresh the matter ? " 

" I should say the 
expression on his face 
was matter enough," 
was his answer. u He 
has been drinking 
heavily, and I met him not half an hour 
ago in the grounds pacing up and down 
as though he were bereft of his senses. 
He was muttering to himself in the queerest 
way. He has beyond doubt got into a 
tight corner, and does not know how to 
extricate himself. To tell the truth, I 
wish he were not here; such a man's in- 
fluence in the Club does no good." 

tC If your suspicions are founded on fact, 
he cannot slay here much longer/' I 
answered ; " but now, what about the 
sapphire ? " 

"Ah, I am coming to that. I do believe 
I have struck something very curious : no 
less than the key to the legend." 

"Now> what do you mean?" I cried 

"Well, you know, it says that if anyone 

shall st^k to hold the Diana Sapphire it shall 

vanish from his eyes* I believe it would, for 

in rescuing that sapphire from its bed of 

Original from 




crystal the man would assuredly lose his 

" What in the name of Heaven do you 
mean ? " I cried. 

"You can see for yourself," he answered. 
As he spoke he produced a tiny glass bead ; 
it was pear-shaped, and was an exact facsimile 
on a very small scale of the crystal encasing 
the Diana Sapphire. 

44 Do you know what this is?" he asked. 

" " No," I replied, " except that it is like the 

crystal on a small scale. Did you make it?" 

He did not answer, but, seizing a heavy 
paper-weight, struck it a smart blow on 
the tail end. There was a loud and sharp 
report — the bead had disappeared into 
fine powder. 

44 A Prince Rupert's Drop," he said, quietly. 
44 You have heard of it, of course ? " 

I nodded. 

44 Well, you know what these drops are. 
When glass is dropped into water and sud- 
denly cooled a crust is formed while the 
internal mass is still liquid. This tends to 
contract on cooling, but is prevented by the 
molecular forces which attach it to the crust. 
In this state, unless it is struck, or its tail 
broken off, it will last as such for centuries, 
and look like an ordinary bit of glass ; but 
when struck and broken it flies into powder 
with an explosion. Now, my impression is 
that the sapphire is inside a Prince Rupert's 
Drop of enormous size." 

44 Good God ! " I exclaimed. 

44 1 am pretty certain of it from its peculiar 
shape. Now, you have heard what sort of a 
report «that little thing made when it was 
broken, but if the crystal which is in our safe 
downstairs were smashed, the explosion would 
be terrific. It would certainly blind the man 
who broke it, and, in all probability, kill him, 
or, at any rate, disfigure and injure him as 
much as a charge of dynamite. Thus the 
sapphire would vanish from his sight for 

For a moment I could scarcely speak; 
then I inquired : — 

44 What made you think of this ? "' 

44 In the first instance, the peculiar shape," 
he answered. 44 1 made many Prince Rupert's 
Drops as a boy. Well, I thought I would 
tell you — it is a pretty theory, but I cannot, 
unfortunately, put it to the test." 

I left Chetwynd and crossed the hall 
preparatory to going upstairs, when I sud- 
denly came face to face with Kort. 

"What," I said, "up still?" 

44 Yes," he answered. " I have many things 
to keep me awake, as doubtless you have, 

Vol. xviii.— 35 

Dr. Cato." He passed me coldly, walked 
as far as the end of the hall, and then 
came swiftly back. 

44 By the way," he said, " I have seen 
Sherwin ; I do not think he will last until 
the morning." 

44 Indeed," I answered. " I am sorry you 
went to him. He was put specially under 
my care, and I did not wish to have him 

44 He is here as my guest, don't forget," 
said Kort ; 44 but, never mind, he has all but 
done with this troublesome world. So much 
the better for him." 

I did not say anything further, but went 
upstairs. Kort stood holding a candle in 
his hand and watched me as I did so. I 
looked back at him and saw a queer smile 
sKghtly parting his lips. I was turning aside 
into my own corridor, when it occurred to me 
that I would go to see Sherwin. If he were 
as ill as Kort had indicated, he ought not to 
be left alone. I paused a moment outside 
the door of his room. Even through the 
heavy oak I could hear his laboured breath- 
ing ; and believing that after all he was sound 
asleep, and that it would be a pity to disturb 
him, I was just going away, when I heard his 
voice ask, very faintly, "Is that you, doctor?" 

I opened the door ; he was half sitting up 
in bed. 

44 1 knew it was you, doctor," he continued ; 
44 1 knew your step. I have just had a most 
horrible dream. It has upset me terribly. I 
believe it was sent to me as a warning." 

I went up to him and laid my hand on 
his forehead. It was wet with perspiration ; 
his eyes had a startled expression. He 
clutched tight hold of my hand as if he 
would not let me go. 

44 Lie down, Sherwin, lie down," I said. 
"A dream is but a dream, remember. It 
need not trouble you." 

44 But it does," he whispered, "and I think 
Kort must have caused it. He was in my 
room this evening, he spoke of — of " 

"Whom?" I asked. 

The poor fellow began to struggle for 

44 Of her — Isobel — she is his wife. Did 
he ever tell you that he had a wife ? " 

44 Never," I answered. 

44 He has. Ask him about her after— after 
I am gone." He gave a horrible laugh. 

44 1 could say nothing bad enough to 
describe him," he said, faintly, " but, oh, Dr. 
Cato, I can only think of the sapphire now. 
My dream was about it. Is it — is it all 





"Of course it is, my dear boy/' I answered. 
* ( It is in our safe, secure as possible; 
you know that, Slier win. Now try to 
sleep. 1 ' 

11 1 cannot," he answered ; u my dream was 
much too vivid to be false, I know it is 
true, and it was sent to me as a warning. 
They are taking the sapphire away ; I can 
see them doing it. Go at once and stop 
them, doctor. My God ! can't you see for 
yourself?" He grasped my arm more tightly 
than ever, and stared wildly out across the 

" You have had a nightmare," I answered ; 
* l there is nothing to see* The sapphire is 
perfectly safe;" 

"It is not. I tell you I see them taking 
it now. Quick! Go and stop them. That 
dream was sent to me — was sent to me. 
Kort would stop at nothing — nothing — and 
Banpfylde is his tool. I feci it — I am cer- 
tain of it. Oh, Dr. Cato, won't you have 
pity on me? Will you not go downstairs and 
find out for yourself if the safe is untarnpered 

14 Very well," I answered; "if you will 

Digitized byGi 

only lie down and remain quiet I will 
^o and see and bring you word." 

11 Von will ? You pro- 
mise ? " he cried. *' You 
n'ould not break your word 
to a dying man? " 

lt I would break my 
word to no man," I 
answered. "Trust me, 
Sherwin. I will go 
down as quickly as pos- 
sible and come back 
to you." 

I left the room, 
I resolving to visit the 
laboratory, ascertain for 
myself that Sherwin's 
wild words were the 
mere hallucination of 
his brain, and then 
spend the rest of the 
night by the dying 
man's side. Crossing 
the hall I opened a 
door leading to the 
laboratory steps and 
went quickly down. 
Half - way down I 
paused, stopped, and 
listened. Late as the 
hour was, someone was 
moving about below. 
I was not seriously 
alarmed at this, for Chetwynd often worked 
in the laboratory until morning. I hurried 
on, therefore — a light streamed from under 
the door. I flung it open and entered. 
1 was just about to utter my friend's name 
when the words were arrested on my 
lips. Chetwynd was nowhere to be seen, 
but fully dressed and standing at the bench 
was Banpfylde. I could not at first ascertain 
what he was doing, but at the sound of my 
voice he swung sharply round* 

" May I ask, sir, what your business is here 
at this hour?" I inquired M Are you not 
aware that it is against the rules for members 
to come to the laboratory ? " 

t5 1 am perfectly well aware of that fact, 
Dr. Cato," he replied, in the suavest tones, 
and with wonderful self-control ; " but the 
emergency which brought me here to-night 
was so exceptional that I felt justified in 
breaking a well-known rule. For days past I 
have been suffering from spasmodic asthma, 
the only thing that relieves me is oxygen— I 
have a cylinder of my own which I always 
have in my room. It was empty; I came 
here to fetch a fresh one." 
Original from 




It was true that his position corroborated 
his words, for he had in his hand a small 
forty cubic feet cylinder, which he had taken 
from the cupboard 

"Whatever the emergency, you had no 
right to do it," I replied ; " the doctors in this 
establishment expect to be summoned in case 
of need, and you did distinctly wrong when 
you broke the rules, I must now ask you to 
go to your room. Kindly do so without 

He did not answer me for a moment, but 
stood looking full at me. He was a power- 
fully built man, some inches taller than 
myself. His lips were compressed, and 
he began to breathe heavily, I knew well 
that he was not really suffering from asthma- 
he had lied to me. What his motive was I 
could not tell. Suddenly his eyes dropped, 
and I saw that he was looking intently at my 
waistcoat pocket, where I generally kept the 
key of the safe in which the Diana Sapphire 
had been placed. He had seen me produce 
it from that receptacle on the night when 
Sherwin had shown -us the sapphire. It was 
not there now. I always locked it at night in 
my own small safe upstairs, but as he glanced 
in the direction of my 
coat I guessed what 
he was about to do 
in a flash. Before I 
could even cry out or 
utter a word the man 
had sprung upon me, 
and brought me by 
the suddenness and 
violence of the attack 
to the floor. His 
great hand was upon 
my throat, and I saw 
his bloodshot eyes 
within an inch of 
mine, I tried to 
shout for help, but 
with one of his hands 
crushing my throat I 
could not utter a 
word. The next 
instant, with the other 
hand, he slipped from 
his coat-pocket a short 
jemmy* and brought 
it down upon my head 
with all his force, I 
remembered nothing 

When I came to 
myself I was lying 
upon the stone floor, 

sick and faint. I wondered dimly where 
I was, then memory returned in a flash 
and I struggled to rise j but I was 
firmly bound hand and foot, and a duster 
soaked in chloroform was tightly fastened 
across my mouth. A light, hissing sound 
fell on my ears, and I feebly turned my 
head. Never shall I forget the sight that 
met my eyes, dull and dim though they were, 
Banpfylde was kneeling beside the safe at 
the further end of the laboratory. In one 
hand he held a lighted Bunsen burner, from 
which glowed a dazzling white flame, and 
with the other he was wrenching and tearing 
at the lock of the safe with some tool which 
I could not distinctly see. 

To my astonishment and horror I perceived 
that the metal round the lock was glowing 
with a white heat. I heard it spit and crack, 
and saw the white sparks flying as the man 
gouged and tore away at the molten metal. 
What he was really doing I could not at first 
comprehend. All I knew was that he was 
breaking into the safe in some marvellous 
manner, and that I, within a stone's throw, 
was powerless to prevent him. I tried to 
shout out, but my voice only came in a dull, 

by Google 


Original From 



hoarse whisper. For one moment he turned 
his face towards me. It was red with excite- 
ment, and distorted with the most feverish 
anxiety— the next instant the safe door 
swung back. I saw Banpfylde reach in his 
hand and draw out the great Diana Sapphire. 
He laid it on the stone flags and picked up 
the short steel jemmy he had just been using. 
Dazed and sick as I felt, I knew in a flash 
what he was about to do. He was going to 
smash the surrounding glass in which the 
sapphire lay, and so liberate the gem. If 
Chetwynd's theory were true, and that glass 
was, in reality, an enormous Prince Rupert's 
Drop, the man was rushing to his fate, and I, 
in my present position, was powerless to save 

" Stop, for God's sake stop ! " I cried, but 
my voice was choked down to a hoarse 

Steadying the great mass of glass with 
one hand, and gathering all his strength, he 
brought the jemmy down with one terrific 
blow upon the tail of the crystal globe. 
There was a deafening explosion as of a 
thousand cannon. Every light was instantly 
extinguished, and with a shriek of pain 

I heard the miserable man plunge heavily 
forward upon the stone flags. We were in 
total darkness, but at that awful instant I 
could have sworn that something or some- 
one brushed quickly past me and out of the 
room. I felt the draught made by a hurried 
movement. In sick despair I made another 
frantic effort to rise, but all in vain — I was 
tied down too tightly. The next instant, 
to my intense relief, I heard the clamour of 
approaching voices, quick footsteps hurried 
down the corridor, and Chetwynd and Kort, 
holding lights, rushed in. To release me 
from my bonds was the work of a moment, 
and then Kort ran up to Banpfylde and turned 
the light full on his face. Chetwynd and I 
gazed in horrified silence at what a moment 
before had been a man— living, breathing, in 
the full possession of every faculty. The 
terrific explosion had done its deadly work — 
the Diana Sapphire had avenged itself — a 
large portion of the man's skull had abso- 
lutely been blown away. He must have 
died as he fell. 

"I was right," muttered Chetwynd. 

As for me, I grasped the edge of the 
nearest bench to support myself. I felt 
faint and sick. Kort laid the dead man 
quietly back on the floor, then he turned and 
faced us. 

"What has happened?" he asked. 

II What caused the explosion ? " 

I pointed to the safe. 

" The Diana Sapphire," I exclaimed ; " the 
legend was true." 

Kort was about to say something further 
when a sound behind caused us all to turn 
our heads. Sherwin, partly dressed, his face 
ghastly white, his eyes almost starting from 
his head, was standing in the doorway. The 
noise of the terrific explosion had doubtless 
drawn him to the place. I rushed up to him 
and laid detaining hands on his shoulders. 

*" Back, back, Sherwin," I cried ; " this is 
no place for you. I will take you to your 
room and explain." 

" Explain ? " he cried. " I see for myself. 
My dream was true. Don't touch me, Cato, 
don't touch me. Oh, my God ! the Sapphire, 
where is it ? " 

He did not take the least notice of poor 
Banpfylde's dead body, but began frantically 
to peer about, going down on his hands and 
knees to examine for the lost treasure. 

" Gone," he said ; " the legend was true." 
He looked full up at Kort, then staggered 
forward and lay insensible, not far from 
the dead body of the would-be burglar. 

" We must take him away before he 
recovers," said Chetwynd; "this will finish 
him, poor chap." 

Between us we lifted the dying man from 
the floor, took him upstairs, and laid him on 
his bed. He lay insensible for over an hour, 
and then feebly opened his eyes. He looked 
at me, but without recognition ; indeed, he 
never recognised anyone again. It was a 
relief to feel that he had lost all memory of 
the terrible scene which he had witnessed. 
He murmured faintly, and I thought he said 
the word " Isobel," but I am not sure. He 
died at nine o'clock on the following 

Early on the ensuing day we three doctors 
met in the laboratory. Banpfylde's body had 
been removed, and the debris caused by the 
terrific explosion had been partly cleared 

" But what does it mean ? " said Kort. 
" You two seem to know something — I want 
an explanation— for God's sake tell me what 
really happened ? " 

"It is about the strangest thing I ever 
heard of," answered Chetwynd. " That glass 
crystal was in reality an enormous Prince 
Rupert's Drop." 

I gazed at Kort as my brother doctor 
spoke. My impression was that he knew of 
this already. If he did, however, he did not 
turn a hair ; his dark eyes were fixed with 
intense interest on Chetwynd's face. 



2 77 


"You have heard of a Prince Rupert's 
Drop, of course ? " continued Chetwynd. 

" Yes, but I have never seen one," 

"The sapphire was embedded in one. I 
had thought out the whole idea no later than 
yesterday, and told Cato about it I little 
knew how soon my theory was to be verified. 
The terrific explosion which occurred last 
night proves that the sapphire was imprisoned 
in one." 

Kort took up a fragment of glass which 
still remained on the floor, examined it care- 
fully, and laid it down. 

"But there is something still stranger to 
be explained," continued Chetwynd, "and 
with regard to that I have formed no 
theory at present" 

"To what do you allude?" asked KorL 

"I allude to the strange way in which 
Banpfylde opened the safe. That was no 
work of an ordinary jewel dealer. It was 
something beyond all burglars' resources. 

See for yourselves : the lock has been melted 
out with this Runsen burner — look, the blow- 
pipe junction runs to that oxygen cylinder — 
a cut above drills. It was nothing 
less than a masterpiece. See, the 
man literally melted out the 
iron like butter with the oxy- 
hydrogen flame* There was 
someone behind this job— a 
chemist, and no ordinary one 
at that I shall never believe 
that that wan Ban pfylde's work, 
and, what is more," continued 
Chetwynd, ki l shall not rest 
until I find out who instigated 
him to do the job." 

'* You are never likely 
to know," said KorL " I 
happened to hear that 
the man was in des- 
pera te circumstances, 
and desperate men find 
desperate means to 
recover themselves. 
But, by the way, what 
has become of the 
sapphire? Did it dis- 
appear when the glass 
was shattered ? " 

"It looks like it," 
answered Chetwynd ; 
i( I have searched for 
it, but have seen it 
"Then poor Sherwin's theory was right," I 
could not help saying ; but as I uttered the 
words I glanced at Kort. For one quarter of 
an instant he had given himself away. The 
look of relief on his face was too marked. I 
thought once again of that footfall which 
had hurried past me in the dark, of the 
slight draught made by a person moving 
quickly. Had Kort stolen the priceless 
sapphire? Was Sherwin right in his suspi- 
cions of the man whom I also deeply dis- 
trusted ? What was the story of Isobel? 
Why had Sherwin died with his secret un- 
revealed ? 

"At least one thing is true," said Chet- 
wynd, turning suddenly to me in that 
moment of stillness in which it almost 
seemed as if Kort and I were challenging 
each other "At least one thing is obvious : 
the Diana Sapphire has proved the truth 
of its own legend. It has vanished from 
our sight" 

With regard to the awful mystery of Isobel 

the readers must 'wUlLCtU-1 fljrth^l&velopmeniii. 


The "Southern Cross" Antarctic Expedition, 

By Sir George Newnes, Bart. 

With Photographs taken during tht Expedition. 

OR a long time past it has been 
the belief of eminent geogra- 
phers and scientists that the 
most important work of ex- 
ploration yet to be accom- 
plished lies in the Antarctic 
Continent This subject has occupied a 
prominent place in the addresses delivered 


parations for the dispatch of an expedition 
in August, i goo; and the Royal Geographical 
Society of Great Britain, under the presidency 
of Sir Clements Markham, hope to send out 
another about the same time, and, if possible, 
to act in consort with the German effort 
Towards the fund for equipment, Mr, I*ong- 
staff has munificently subscribed ^£35,000. A 

Prom a Photo, by W, Pl*mk, 

at the important gatherings of the leading 
geographical institutions of the world. 

Many enterprises have been projected. 
The German Government have made pre- 

by Google 

Belgian expedition vvas sent out two years ago 
in the ship Befgica* For a long time there 
was considerable anxiety as to its fate, but, 
happily, the vessel has returned with the loss 

Original fronn 




Pr KlcTEtail 

(majTnelic rrtiKerTvrjiiirl photographer!. 

Hugh Flvjkrifl 

^uln Lieut. roHnNrk. It N It. A. Fauguer; 

I by tftirtyf *V« ■»"«**, /.M. 

of only one life. It was locked in the ice for 
twelve months, and the captain was com- 
pelled, on its release, to return without having 
effected a landing in the Antarctic. I 1 ho 
Southern Cross, under the leadership of Mr, 
C. E. Borchgrevink, 
has been more fortu- 
nate* For the first 
time in the world's 
history, a fully 
eq u i pped e xnlori ng 
expedition has 
landed at Cape 
Adair, in Victoria 
Ijmdj within 200 
miles of the South 
Magnetic Pole. 

It is for the pur- 
pose of giving some 
account of how this 
landing was effected 
that this article is 

The materials are 
gathered from the 
log of the Southern 
Cross t and from 
letters received. It 
is obvious that this 

account must end where the most import- 
ant work of the expedition begins ; hut 
from the fact that it is the first time such 
landing has been effected, and also because 
Mr, Borchgrevink and his brave band have 








already encountered many dangers and adven- 
tures, it may prove interesting. 

Mr Borchgrevmk was selected as leader 
of the expedition because of his enthusiasm 
for Antarctic exploration, his courage and 
determination, his study of the question, and 
because he himself had already five years 
before actually set foot on Victoria Land, 
though only for a few hours, and therefore 
knew something of the difficulties likely to 
be incurred in getting there. His chief 
officers are Captain Jensen, Sub- Lieutenant 
Col beck, R.N.R., Mr. Hugh Evans, and Mr. 
Bernacchi (an Australian), having under their 
command a fine, stalwart crew. 





UTKfcAlJ.Y m F*l> TJ. 


The Southern Cross was 
to have been entirely re- 
fitted in England, but 
owing to the great engi- 
neers' strike here it was 
necessary to send her to 
Norway for the renewal of 
her engines and boilers. 
After this was completed 
the ship came to the 
Thames, and was for the 
rest — food stores, clothing, 
scientific instruments, etc. 
—completely equipped in 
London. On the day 
before the departure a 

THE iCl-.-rALK sH(-.\ VtiUM ALOFT. 

luncheon was held on 
board, presided over by 
the writer of this article, 
at which several eminent 
geographers and explorers 
were present for the pur- 
pose of giving a hearty 
send-off to the intrepid 
band who were to go so 
far and risk so much. 
The Southern Cross sailed 
next day under the British 
flag presented to the ship 
by ILR,H. the Duke of 



It seems to have be- 
come known all down 
the river that this inter- 
esting vessel was starting 
on her bold enterprise, 
and very many ships 
displayed th^tr bunting, 
and the crews assembled 
on deck to lustily cheer 
the Southern Cross as 
she steamed past* This 
last demonstration of 
kindness was much ap- 
preciated by all on board 
as a pleasing and, indeed, 
an affecting farewell. 

The voyage to Hobart 
Town was comparatively 
uneventful. On reaching 
that port they were very 
heartily welcomed. 

The keenest interest in Antarctic research 
is felt in Australasia, as is natural from its 
geographical position. The Governor, His 
Excellency Viscount (lormanston, tl.CM.G., 
presided at a banquet in their honour, and 
parties and conversaziones and fetes were 
given to them, which must have been in 

THE hLICKWINt; com Mswati. 

On Friday, the 30th, she sighted the great 
ice-pack in laL 6i'56deg. south and long. 
^SS'SSdeg. east— somewhat sooner than had 
been expected. *The greatest enthusiasm 
prevailed on board, for the sight, to those 
who looked upon it for the first time, was 
one to fill the spectator with wonder and 


striking contrast to the rough life they were 
about to commence. Mr. Borrh^iwink 
writes with much gratitude of the kindness 
they all received at Hobart Town. 

The vessel left that port for Cape Adair on 
the 19th of December, 1898. 

VoL xviii s -36 

admiration- Some of the floes were several 
miles in diameter, and from 4ft. to 8ft 
thick. The channels between them were 
very narrow, and at times closed up com- 
pletely. The danger to the ship was great; 
but the S&ttihtrx Cnss proved equal to her 





task, and came triumphantly out of ice- 
pressures which would have crushed a less 
solid vessel like an egg-shell. 

The 22nd and 23rd of January in especial 
were days of terrible anxiety. The ship was 

fairly buried in the ice ; the great blocks rose 
to the level of the bowsprit ; and the pres- 
sure of the floes was so stupendous as to lift 
the vessel bodily 4ft. out of the water. 

They were at that time off the coast of 


sir, buhcui.htvjNK with Tut Tufcouqgrffq j p 3 1 from 




JAKUARY 3J, 1849. 

IsHtf' Lit 1 ED 4HI 


Batleny Islands. No more appalling scene 
of desolation can be imagined than those 
sinister and ice- bound shores. At evening, 
however, gorgeous sunsets, which surpass 
description, glowing on iridescent floe and 
ice-peak, lend them a wild magnificence of 
beauty which compensates for alL Nor 
were the adventurers without resources. 
Very valuable scientific work was done, 
especially in the zoological department- No 
fewer than a hundred and seventy-five rare 

I -00^ 

birds' skins were prepared, many seals, in- 
cluding one of an entirely new species, were 
procured, as well as penguins and beautiful 
white petrels. More than a hundred species 
of various fauna were collected. Meteoro- 
logical and magnetic observations were made, 
deep-sea temperatures were taken, and a 
number of most interesting photographs 

Still encompassed by the horrors of the 
ice-pack, and making little progress, the 





ship remained for no less than forty -three 
interminable days ! During the 8th, 9th, 
and 10th of February, the crew made 
strenuous efforts to reach open water to the 
north, and succeeded in doing so on the 
1 1 th. All progress was then made due east 
in order to re-enter the pack at a point likely 
to afford an easier transit, and on the 14th 

causing the main- 
mast to quiver for 
some seconds with 
the shock. Towards 
midnight the ice be- 
came much scattered, 
and at five o'clock 
in the morning the 
vessel was again in 
clear water to the 
south , having been 
only a few hours in 
the pack. 

On February 16th 
Cape Adair was 
sighted. A terrific gale 
was blowing, and the 
ship was compelled 
to lay-to that night 
under two half-top- 
sails in a storm of 
blinding sleet, and 
with the decks and rigging covered thick with 
ice. Next day, the gale subsiding, they 
steamed into Robertson Bay> and for the first 
time in history, at ten o'clock in the morning, 
an anchor was let fall, in ten fathoms of 

In half an hour the staff were all on shore. 
On the beach were penguins, gulls, stone- 


the brave ship once more thrust herself 
among the floes. At this place they were 
loose and broken, though the danger was 
still great, The sea was heaving with a 
heavy swell ; masses of ice would crash 
into the ship's sides with terrific force. 

Digitized by VjOOQ I L 

petrels, giant-petrels, and many huge seals of 
an unknown species* Two of the adventurers, 
Mr. Evans and Mr. Bernaechi, started off to 
climb to the summit of the cape. The 
ascent, over a thousand feet, proved terrible, 
and they did mot reach The top till midnight 




Bat they must have felt full compensation in which were then pulled to the land, and the 

the thought that they were the first to set boxes carried through the surf by hearers 

foot upon the summit of Victoria Land. waist-deep in the icy water. But all kept well 

The next few days were employed in land- and "game," and in due course die stores, 


ing stores and erecting huts. This was a 
task of no small difficulty and hardship, 
The vessel was at anchor in the bay, some 
200yds, from shore, and the workers were 
obliged to discharge the cargo in small boats, 

the scientific apparatus, the sledges, and 
seventy-five sledge-dogs were landed safe and 

But now a new disaster was before them. 
On the 2^1x1 of February a great blizzard 




ropes, to prevent it 
blowing away, All 
that terrible night 
they were toiling in 
the blizzard to save 
the cargo from being 
washed away. Mr. 
Bernacchi got frost- 
bitten in the ears t 
which turned quite 
black, and were only 
saved with difficulty, 
The hair of the party 
froze into solid 


came on. It was a 
terrible experience. The 
wind rose suddenly and 
blew thousands of tons 
of snow upon the little 
camp. The gale blew 
with cyclonic force, and 
it was piercing cold— 
iSdeg. below zero 1 Four 
members of the staff — 
the doctor, Fougner, 
Colbeck, and Bernacchi 
— were on shore and 
could not reach the ship. 
The only shelter was the 
tent, which they were 
obliged to bury with 
stones and to lash with 





lumps, and ihe ice upon 
their beards took hours 
to melt, while their 
clothes clashed with ice 
like coats of mail The 
waves froze solid as they 
dashed upon the shore, 
and the water froze in 
the barrels; though they 
lay beside a roaring fire 
in the tent. 

A more awful experi- 
ence it would be difficult 
to imagine, 

The next afternoon 
they managed to get on 
board, where they found 
that their companions 
had also had a terrible 


experience. Stones 
from the mountain 
had been blown on 
board. The cable 
had parted during 
the night and the 
ship was driving 
ashore. They en- 
deavoured to cut 
the main-mast, but 
could not do so* 
They were forced 
to steam out of the 
bay and, even then, 


Til*, " s«.H I I ILh:-, 

by \jm 




nothing could have saved the ship had she 
not proved herself remarkably seaworthy. 

On the 23rd it blew another storm, but not 
quite so strong. But the vessel again lost an 
anchor, and, driving ashore, bumped an the 
rocks four times with terrific force* By 
steaming full speed ahead they contrived to 
get her off, but a boat was smashed to atoms, 
and they had to steam for shelter to the 
other side of the bay, and to moor the ship 
with ropes to the edge of the glacier. 

There they found good shelter, and on the 
afternoon of February 27th three members 
of the staff; Colbeck, Hansen, and Fougner, 
were permitted to go ashore for the purpose 

These discoveries gave them strong hope 
that their subsequent explorations will meet 
with great and valuable reward. 

Such is a brief account of the experiences 
upon the Southern Cross up to February 27th. 
What has happened since then none but the 
brave band of ten determined men can know 
until January next 

They are shut up in the ice, and no ship 
could till then approach near to the 
wonderful continent upon which they have 
voluntarily chosen to live for a year, during 
which time they will explore those unknown 
regions to the fullest extent of their powers. 
Our winter is, of course, their summer, 


of climbing the great glacier, taking alpen- 
stocks, ropes, provisions, cognac, etc. They 
started at half-past three and returned at 
midnight. They made some valuable dis- 
coveries, although they were not able to 
reach the top, attaining, however, an altitude 
of 2,300ft., as indicated by the aneroid, At 
i, 600ft. they discovered an abundance of 
mOSS, of three distinct kinds, exactly the 
same as reindeer-moss in the north ; and 
more important than all, near the bottom of 
the mountain they lighted on a huge quartz 
outcrop, which looked as if it contained gold ! 
It was milky, with blue streaks and very 
heavy, and had walls of soft slaty matter. 

and then the ice will break up and melt ; 
and the Southern Cross^ which has returned 
to warmer latitudes during the interval, will 
steam to Cape Adair once more. As they 
approach we can imagine the interest and 
anxiety to those on board to know whether 
they are to find the band still muster- 
ing their full strength of ten souls, and 
the hopes they will entertain that the 
objects of the grand undertaking have been 

I am sure these good wishes and kindly 
thoughts will be shared by thousands of us 
at home who admire the exercise of endur- 
ance, courage, and d termination, 


A Master of Craft. 

By W. W. Jacobs. 


HE mate awoke next morning 
to a full sense of the un- 
pleasant task before him, and, 
after irritably giving orders for 

(^i*&L iS^E^ f ^ e Temova l °f the tarpaulin 
I ISEgBB aB f rom the skylight, a substitu- 
tion of the ingenious cook's for the drawn 
biinds ashore, sat down to a solitary breaks 
fast and the composition of a telegram to 
Captain Barber The first, a beautiful piece 
of prose 3 of which the key-note was resigna- 
tion, contained two shillings' worth of 
sympathy and fourpe nee -halfpenny worth 
of religion* It was too expensive as it 
stood, and boiled down he was surprised to 
find it became unfeeling to the verge of 
flippancy. Ultimately Tie embodied it in a 
letter, which he preceded by a telegram, 
breaking the sad news in as gentle a form as 
could be managed for one-and-three. 

The best part of the day was spent in 
relating the sad end of Captain Fred Flower 

to various inquirers. The deceased gentle- 
man was a popular favourite, and clerks from 
the office and brother skippers came down 
in little knots to learn the full particulars, 
and to compare the accident with others in 
their experience* It reminded one skipper, 
who invariably took to drink when his feelings 
were touched, of the death of a little nephew 
from whooping-cough, and he was so moved 
over a picture he drew of the meeting of the 
two, that it took four men to get him off the 
schooner without violence. 

The mate sat for some time after tea 
striving to summon up sufficient courage for 
his journey to Poplar, and wondering whether 
it wouldn't, perhaps, be better to communi- 
cate the news by letter. He even went so 
far as to get the writing materials ready, 
and then, remembering his promise to the 
skipper, put them away again and prepared 
for his visit. The crew who were on deck 
eyed him stolidly as he departed, and Joe 
made a remark to the cook, which that 

worthy drowned in 
aloud and trouble- 
some cough, 

The Wheeler 
were at 
when he 
and re- 
him with 
some surprise, 
Mrs. Wheeler, who 
was in her usual 
place on the sofa, 
shook hands with 
him in a genteel 
fashion, and call- 
ing his attention 
to a somewhat 
loudly attired 
young man of un- 
pleasant appear- 
ance, who was 
making a late tea, 
introduced him as 
her son Bob. 

" Is Miss Tyrell 
in ? " inquired 
Fraser, shaking his 


"brother skippers came down to learn THE FUI.I. particulars.** 

Copyright t 1899, by W. W. Jacobs, in the United States of America. 

Vol xviii.— 37. r~ On q 1 n a I fro rn 

by Google 




head as Mr, Wheeler dusted a small Wheeler 
o(T a chair and offered it to him. 

' i S he 3 s u ps ta ir a , ' J said Emma Wheeler; 
"shall I go and fetch her?" 

" No, I'll go up to her," said the mate, 
quietly, " I think I'd better see her alone ; 
I've got rather bad news for her." 

s * About the captain?' 7 inquired Mrs. 
Wheeler, sharply, 

" Yes," said Fraser, turning somewhat red, 
11 Very bad news/ 5 

He fixed his eyes on the ground, and, in a 
spasmodic fashion made perfect by practice, 
recited the disaster, 

M Pore feller," said Mrs. Wheeler, when he 
had finished. "Pore feller, and cut down 
suddenly like that. I s'p'ose he 'adn't made 
any preparation for it ? " 

" Not a bit," said the mate, starting, M quite 

u You didn't jump over after him ? " 
suggested Miss Wheeler, softly. 

" I did not," said the mate, firmly ; where- 
upon Miss Wheeler, who was fond of penny 
romance, sighed and shook her head. 

" There's that pore gat upstairs," said Mrs. 
Wheeler, sorrowfully, " all innocent and 
happy, probably expecting him to come to- 
night and take her out, Emma'd better go 
up and break it to J er." 

" I will," said Fraser, shortly, 

" Better to let a woman do it," said Mrs. 
Wheeler. " When our little Jemmy smashed 
his finger we sent Emma down to break it to 
his father and bring J im 'ome. It was ever 
so long before she let you know the truth, 
wasn't it, father? " 

"Made me think all sorts of things with 
her mysteries," said the dutiful Mr. Wheeler, 
in triumphant corroboration, IC First of all 
she made me think you was dead ; then I 
thought you was all dead — give me such a 
turn they *ad to give me brandy to bring me 
round. When I found out it was only 
Jemmy's finger I was nearly off my J ed with 

"I'll go and tell her," interrupted Mr. Bob 
Wheeler, delicately, using the inside edge of 
the tablecloth as a serviette. " I can do it 
better than Emma can. What she wants is 
comforting ; Emma would go and snivel all 
over her." 

Mrs. Wheeler, raising her head from the 
sofa, regarded the speaker with looks of tender 
admiration, and the young man, after a 
lengthy glance in the small pier - glass 
ornamented with coloured paper, which 
stood on the mantel -piece, walked to the 

"You needn't trouble," said Fraser, slowly; 
" I'm going to tell her." 

Mrs, Wheeler's dull eyes snapped sharply. 
" She's our lodger," she said, aggressively. 

" Yes t but Pm going to tell her," rejoined 
the mate ; " the skipper told me to." 

A startled silence was broken by Mr, 
Wheeler's chair, which fell noisily. 

" I mean," stammered Fraser^ meeting the 
perturbed gaze of the dock fireman, " that he 
told me o ;ce if anything happened to him 
that I was to break the news to Miss Tyrell. 
It's been such a shock to me I hardly know 
what I am saying," 

"Yes, you'll go and frighten her," said 
Bob Wheeler, endeavouring to push past 

The mate blocked the doorway. 

"Are you going to try to prevent me going 
out of a room in my own house?" blustered 
the young man. 

" Of course not," said Fraser, and, giving 
way, ascended the stairs before him, Mr. 
Wheeler, junior, after a moment's hesitation, 
turned back and, muttering threats under his 
breath, returned to the parlour. 

Miss Tyrell, who was sitting by the window 
reading, ruse upon the mate's entrance, and, 
observing that he was alone, evinced a little 
surprise as she shook hands with him. It 
was the one thing necessary to complete his 
discomfiture, and he stood before her in a 
state of guilty confusion. 

|F^\ 'teg 

by Google 


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N-DiiW KRAniKG, 




"Cap'n Flower couldn't come," he stam- 

The girl said nothing, but with her dark 
eyes fixed upon his flushed face waited for 
him to continue. 

"It's his misfortune that he couldn't 
come," continued Fraser, jerkily. 

" Business, I suppose ? " said the girl after 
another wait " Won't you sit down ? " 

" Bad business," replied Fraser. He sat 
down, and fancied he saw the way clear 
before him. 

" You've left him on the Foam> I suppose ? " 
said Poppy, seeing that she was expected to 

" No ; farther back than that," was the 

" Seabridge ? " queried the girl, with an air 
of indifference. 

Fraser regarded her with an expression of 
studied sadness. " Not so far back as that," 
he said, softly. 

Miss Tyrell manifested a slight restless- 
ness. " Is it a sort of riddle ? " she de- 

" No, it's a tale," replied Fraser, not with- 
out a secret admiration of his unsuspected 
powers of breaking bad news ; " a tale with 
a bad ending." 

The girl misunderstood him. " If you 
mean that Captain Flower doesn't want to 

come here, and sent you to say so " she 

began, with dignity. 

"He can't come," interrupted the mate, 

"Did he send you to tell me?" she 

Fraser shook his head mournfully. " He 
can't come," he said, in a low voice ; " he 
had a bad foot — night before last he was 
standing on the ship's side — when he lost 
his hold " 

He broke off and eyed the girl nervously, 
" and fell overboard," he concluded. 

Poppy Tyrell gave a faint cry and, springing 
to her feet, stood with her hand on the back 
of her chair regarding him. " Poor fellow," 
she said, softly — " poor fellow." 
. She sat down again by the open window 
and nervously plucked at the leaves of a 
geranium. Her face was white and her dark 
eyes pitiful and tender. Fraser, watching 
her, cursed his resourceful skipper and hated 

" It's a terrible thing for his friends," said 
Poppy, at length. 

" And for you," said Fraser, respectfully. 

" I am very grieved," said Poppy, quietly ; 
" very shocked and very grieved." 

Digitized by Google 

" I have got strong hopes that he may 
have got picked up," said Fraser, cheerfully ; 
"very strong hopes. I threw him a life-belt, 
and though we got the boat out and pulled 
about, we couldn't find either of them. I 
shouldn't be at all surprised if he has been 
picked up by some vessel outward-bound. 
Stranger things have happened." 

The girl shook her head. " You didn't go 
overboard after him ? " she asked, quietly. 

" I did not," said the mate, who was some- 
what tired of this tactless question ; " I had 
to stand by the ship, and besides, he was a 
much better swimmer than I am — I did the 
best I could." 

Miss Tyrell bowed her head in answer. 
" Yes," she said, softly. 

"If there's anything I can do," said 
Fraser, awkwardly, "or be of use to you 
in any way, I hope you'll let me know — 
Flower told me you were all alone, and " 

He broke off suddenly as he saw the 
girl's lips quiver. " I was very fond of 
my father," she said, in extenuation of this 

" I suppose you've got some relatives ? " 
said Fraser. 

The girl shook her head. 

" No cousins ? " said Fraser, staring. He 
had twenty-three himself. 

"I have some in New Zealand," said 
Poppy, considering. " If I could, I think I 
should go out there." 

"And give up your business here?" 
inquired the mate, anxiously. 

" It gave me up," said Poppy, with a little, 
tremulous laugh. "I had a week's pay 
instead of notice the day before yesterday. 
If you know anybody who wants a clerk who 
spells 'impatient' with a ( y' and is off-hand 
when they are told of it, you might let me 

The mate stared at her blankly. This 
was a far more serious case than Captain 
Flower's. " What are you going to do ? " he 

" Try for another berth," was the reply. 

" But if you don't get it ? " 

" I shall get it sooner or later," said the 

" But suppose you don't get one for a 
long time ? " suggested Fraser. 

"I must wait till I do," said the girl, 

" You see," continued the mate, twisting 

his hands, " it might be a long job, and I— I 

was wondering — what you would do in the 

meantime. I was wondering whether you 

could hold out," 

unginal from 


29 2 


" Hold out ?" repeated Miss Tyrell, very 

11 Whether you've got enough money/' 
blurted the mate. 

Miss Tyrell turned upon him a face in 
which there was now no lack of colour. 
"That is my business/' she said, stiffly. 

u Mine too/' said Eraser, gazing steadily at 
the pretty picture of indignation before him, 
" I was Flowers friend as well as his mate, 
and you are only a girl,'' The indignation 
became impatience, " Little more than a 
child/' he murmured, scrutinizing her. 

" I am quite big enough to mind my own 
business/' said Poppy, reverting to chilly 

" I wish you would promise me you won't 
leave here or do anything until I have seen you 
again/' said Fraser, who was anxious to consult 
his captain on this new phase of affairs, 

"Certainly not/' said Miss Tyrell, rising 
and standing by her chair, "and thank you 
for calling.' 1 

Fraser rubbed his chin help- 

"Thank you for calling/' re- 
peated the girl, still standing, 

"That is telling me to go, I 
suppose?" said Fraser, looking 
at her frankly. "I wish I knew 
how to talk to you. When I 
think of you being here all 
alone without friends and with- 
out employment, it seems wrong 
for me to go and leave you here.' 5 

Miss Tyrell gave a faint 
gasp and glanced anxiously 
at the door. Fraser hesitated a 
moment, and then rose to his 

"If I hear anything more, 
may I come and tell you ? Jl he 

"Yes/' said Poppy, "or 
write ; perhaps it would be 
better to write ; I might not be 
at home* Good-bye/' 

The mate shook hands, and, 
blundering down the stairs, 
shouted good -night to a segment of the 
Wheeler family visible through the half-open 
door, and passed out into the street. He 
walked for some time rapidly, gradually 
slowing down as he collected his thoughts. 

"Flower's a fool," he said, bitterly; "and, 
as for me, I don't know what I am. Its so 
long since I told the truth I forget what it's 
like, and I'd sooner tell lies in a church than 
tell them to her/' 


Hk looked expectantly on the cabin table 
for a letter upon his return to the ship, 
but was disappointed, and the only letter 
yielded by the post next morning came from 
Captain Barber. It was couched in terms 
of great resignation, and after bemoaning the 
unfortunate skipper's untimely demise in 
language of great strength, wound up with a 
little Scripture and asked the mate to act as 
master and sail the schooner home, 

" You'll act as mate, Ben, to take her 
back," said the new skipper, thrusting the 
letter in his pocket. 

"Aye, aye, sir," said Ben, with a side glance 
at Joe — "but I'll keep for'ard, if you don't 

" As you please/ 1 said Fraser, staring. 

"And youVe master, I s'pose?" said Joe, 
turning to Fraser, 

Fraser, whose manner had already effected 
the little change rendered necessary by his 

by Google 


promotion from mate to master, nodded 

curtly, and the crew, after another exchange 

of looks, resumed their work without a word. 

Their behaviour all day was docile, not to say 

lamb-like, and it was not until evening that 

the new skipper found it necessary to enforce 

his authority. 

The exciting cause of the unpleasantness 

was Mr. William Green, a slim, furtive-eyed 

young man, whom Fraser took on in the 
2 b Original from 



2 93 

afternoon to fill the vacancy caused by Ben's 
promotion. He had not been on board half 
an hour before trouble arose from his attempt 
to introduce the manners of the drawing- 
room into the forecastle. 

" Mr* Will-yum Green," repeated Joe, 
when the new arrival had introduced him- 
self; "well, you'll be BUI 'ere." 

" I don't see why, if I call you Mr. Smith, 
you shouldn't call me Mr. Green/ 1 said the 

"Call me wot?" inquired Joe, sternly ) 
** you let me 'ear you callin' me mister any- 
think, that's all ; you let me 'ear you." 

14 I'm sure the cook J ere don't mind me 
callin 1 'im Mr, Fisher,' 1 said the new seaman, 

4i Cert'nly not," said the gratified cook ; 
4t only my name's Dbher." 

The new-comer apologized with an urbanity 
that rendered Joe and old Ben speechless. 
They gazed at each in silent consternation, 
and then Ben rose* 

"We don't want no misters 'ere,' 1 he said, 
curtly, "an* wot's more, we won't 'ave 'em. 
That chap's name's Bob, but we calls 'ini 
Slushy. If it's good enough for us it's good 
enough for a ordinary seaman wot's got an 
A,R discharge by mistake, I,et me 'ear 
you call 'irn Slushy, Go on now," 

" I've no call to address 'im at all just 
now," said Mr. Green, 

" You call ? im Slushy," 
roared Joe, advancing 
upon him; "call *im 
Slushy till I tell you to 

"Slushy," said Mr, 
Green, sullenly, and 
avoiding the pained 
gaze of the cook ; 
" Slushy, Slushy, Slushy, 
Slushy, SI -" 

"That'll do," said the 
cook, rising, with a scowl. 
"You don't want to 
make a song abaft it." 

Joe, content with his 
victory, resumed his seat 
on the locker and ex- 
changed a reassuring 
glance with Ben ; Mr* 
Green, with a depreca- 
tory glance at the cook, 
sat down and offered 
him a pipe of tobacco. 

" Been to sea long ? " 
inquired the cook, ac- 
cepting it. 

Digitized by d< 

"Not long," said the other, speaking very 
distinctly. " I was brought up for some- 
thing quite different I'm just doing this till 
something better turns up, I find it very 
difficult to be a gentleman at sea*" 

The cook, with an eye on Joe, ventured 
on a gentle murmur of sympathy, and 
said that he had experienced the same 

"I 'ad money," continued Mr, Green, 
musingly, "and I run through it, then 
I 'ad more money, and I run through 

"Ben," said Joe, suddenly, "pass me over 
that hoot o' yours." 

"Wha' for? 1 ' inquired Ben, who had 
just taken it off. 

"To chuck at that swab there," said the 
indignant seaman. 

Ben passed it over without a word, and 
his irritated friend, taking careful aim, 
launched it at Mr, 'Green and caught him on 
the side of the head with iL Pain standing 
the latter in lieu of courage, he snatched it 
up and returned it, and the next moment 
the whole forecastle w r as punching some- 
body else's head, while Tim, in a state 
of fearful joy, peered down on it from his 

Victory, rendered cheap and easy by reason 




of the purblindness of the frantic cook, who 
was trying to persuade Mr, Green to raise his 
face from the floor so that he could punch it 
for him, remained with Joe and Ben, who in 
reply to the angry shouts of the skipper from 
above pointed silently to the combatants. 


Explanations, all different and all ready to 
be sworn to if desired, ensued, and Fraser, 
after curtly reminding Ben of his new posi- 
tion and requesting him to keep order, 
walked away. 

A silence, broken only by the general 
compliments of the much 'gratified Tim, 
followed his departure, although another out- 
break nearly occurred owing to the cook 
supplying raw meat for Mr. Green's eye and 
refusing it for Joe's, It was the lack of 
consideration and feeling that affected Joe, 
not the want of the beef, that little difficulty 
being easily surmounted by taking Mr. 
Green's. The tumult was just beginning 
again, when it was arrested by the sound of 
angry voices above. Tim followed by Joe 
sprang up the ladder, and the couple with 
their heads at the opening listened with 
appreciative enjoyment to a wordy duel 
between Mrs. 'ripping and daughter and 
the watchman. 

11 Call me a liar, then," said old George, in 
bereaved accents. 

" I have," said Mrs, Tipping. 

u Only you're so used to it you don't 
notice it," remarked her daughter, scathingly. 

by L^OOgle 

M I tell you he's drownded," said the 
watchman, raising his voice ; " if you don't 
believe me, go and ask Mr. Fraser, He's 
skipper in his place now." 

He waved his hand in the direction of 
Fraser, who, having heard the noise, was 

coming on deck to 
see the cause of it, 
Mrs* Tipping, com- 
pressing her lips, got 
on board, followed 
by her daughter, 
and marching up 
to him eyed him 

" I wonder you 
can look us in the 
face after the trick 
you served us the 
other night," she 
said, fiercely. 

"You brought it 
on yourselves, 1 ' said 
Fraser, calmly- "You 
wouldn't go away, 
you know. You 
can't always be com- 
ing here worrying." 

" We shall come 
whenever we 
choose," said Mrs, 
Tipping, " In the 
first place, we want to see Mr. Robinson ; 
anyway, we intend to see Captain Flower, 
so you can save that fat old man the trouble 
of telling us lies about him." 

" Captain Flower fell overboard night before 
last, if that's what you mean," said Fraser, 

"I never saw such a man in all my life," 
exclaimed Mrs* Tipping, wrath fully* "You're 

a perfect- what's the man's name in the 

Scriptures?" she asked, turning to her 

Miss Tipping, shaking her head despond- 
ently, requested her parent not to worry 

" Well, it doesn't signify. I shall wait here 
till he comes," said Mrs. Tipping, 

" What, Ananias ? " cried Fraser, forgetting 

Mrs. Tipping, scorning to reply, stood for 
some time gazing thoughtfully about her. 
Then, in compliance with her whispered 
instructions, her daughter crossed to the side 
and, brushing aside the outstretched hand of 
the watchman, reached the jetty and walked 
into the office. Two of the clerks were still 
working there, and she came back hastily to 
Original from 



2 95 

her mother with the story of the captain's 
death unmistakably confirmed. n 

Mrs. Tipping, loth to accept defeat, stood 
for some time in consideration. " What had 
Captain Flower to do with Mr. Robinson ? " 
she asked at length, turning to Fraser. 

" Can't say," was the reply. 

"Have you ever seen Mr. Robinson?" 
inquired the girl. 

"I saw him one night," said the other, 
after some deliberation. " Rather good- 
looking man, bright blue eyes,^good teeth, 
and a jolly laugh." 

"Are you likely to see him again?" 
inquired Miss Tipping, nodding in confirma- 
tion of these details. 

"Not now poor Flower's gone," replied 
Fraser. " I fancy we shipped some cases of 
rifles for him one night. The night you first 
came. I don't know what it was all about, 
but he struck me as being rather a secretive 
sort of man." 

"He was that," sighed Miss Tipping, 
shaking her head. 

"I heard him say that night," said the 
mate, forgetful of his recent longings after 
truth, "that he was off abroad. He said 
that something was spoiling his life, I re- 
member, but that duty came first." 

" There, do you hear that, mother ? " said 
Miss Tipping. 

"Yes, I hear," said the other, with an 
aggressive sniff, as she moved slowly to the 
side. "But I'm not satisfied that the 
captain is dead. They'd tell us anything. 
You've not seen the last of me, young man, 
I can tell you." 

"I hope not," said Fraser, cordially. 
" Any time the ship's up in London and you 
care to come down, I shall be pleased to see 

Mrs. Tipping, heated with the climb, 
received this courtesy with coldness, and 
having inquired concerning the fate of Cap- 
tain Flower of six different people, and 
verified their accounts from the landlord of 
the public-house at the corner, to whom she 
introduced herself with much aplomb as 
being in the profession, went home with 
her daughter, in whom depression, in its 
most chronic form, had settled in the form 
of unfilial disrespect. 

Two hours kter the Foam got under way, 
and, after some heated language owing to the 
watchman mistaking Mr. Green's urbanity 
for sarcasm, sailed slowly down the river. 
The hands were unusually quiet, but their 
behaviour passed unnoticed by the new 
skipper, who was too perturbed by the false- 


hoods he had told and those he was about 
to tell to take much heed of anything that 
was passing. 

" I thought you said you preferred to keep 
for'ard ? " he said to Ben, as that worthy dis- 
turbed his meditations next morning by 
bustling into the cabin and taking his seat 
at the breakfast-table. 

" I've changed my mind ; the men don't 
know their place," said the mate, shortly. 

Fraser raised his eyebrows. 

" Forget who I am," said Ben, gruffly. " I • 
was never one to take much count of such 
things, but when it comes to being patted on 
the back by an A.B., it's time to remind 'em." 

"Did they do that?" said Fraser, in a 
voice of horror. 

"Joe did," said Ben. "'E won't do it 
ag'in I don't think — I didn't say anything, 
but I think 'e knows my feelings." 

"There's your berth," said Fraser, indi- 
cating it with a nod. 

Ben grunted in reply, and being dis- 
inclined for conversation busied himself 
with the meal, and as soon as he had 
finished went up on deck. 

" Wot yer been down there for, Bennie ? " 
asked Joe, severely, as he appeared ; " your 
tea's all cold." 

" I've 'ad my breakfast with the skipper, n 
said Ben, shortly. 

"You was always fond of your stummick, 
Bennie," said Joe, shaking his head, sorrow- 
fully. " I don't think much of a man wot 
leaves his old mates for a bit o' bacon." 

The new mate turned from him haughtily. 
" Tim," he said, sharply. 

" Yes, Ben," said the youth. " Why, wot's 
the matter ? Wot are you looking like that 
for? Aih't you well?" 

" Wot did you call me ? " demanded the 
new mate. 

"I didn't call you anything," said the 
startled Tim. 

A Let me 'ear you call me Ben ag'in and 
you'll 'ear of it,'^ said the other, sharply. 
"Go and clean the brass work." 

The youth strolled off, gasping, with an 
envious glance at the cook, who, standing 
just inside the galley, cheerfully flaunted a 
saucepan he was cleaning as though defying 
the mate to find him any work to do. 

" Bill," said the mate. 

" Sir," said the polite seaman. 

" Help Joe scrub paint-work," was the 

" Me ! " broke in the indignant Joe. 
" Scrub— Look 'ere, Ben." 

" Pore old Joe," said the cook, who had 



THE STMAND magazine. 

not forgiven him for the previous night's affair, 
« Pore old Joe." 

" Don't stand gaping about/' commanded 
the new mate. " Liven up there." 

" It don't want cleaning. I won't do it, 
said Joe, fiercely, 

" I've give my orders," sa -id the new mate, 
severely; "if they ain't attended to, or if I 
'ear any more about 
not doing 5 em, you'll 
'ear of it. The idea 
G* telling me you 
won t do it. The 
idea, o* setting such 
an example to the 
young ! uns. The 

idea Wot are 

you making that 
face for ?* 

u I've got the ear- 
ache," retorted Joe, 
with bitter sarcasm. 

" I thought you 
would 'ave, Joe," 
said the vengeful 
cook, retiring be- 
hind a huge frying- 
pan, " when I J eard 
you singing this 

Fraser, coming on 
deck, was just in 
time to see a really 
creditable imitation 
of a famous sculp- 
ture as represented 
by Joe, Tim, and 
Ben, but his criti- 
cism was so sharp 
and destructive that 
the group at once 

broke and never re-formed. Indeed, with a 
common foe in the person of Ben, the crew 
adjusted their own differences, and by the 
time Seabridge was in sight were united by 
all the fearful obligations of a secret society 
of which Joe was the perpetual president. 

Captain Barber, with as much mourning as 
he could muster at such short notice, was 
waiting on the quay. 1 1 is weather beaten 
face was not quite so ruddy as usual, and 
Fraser with a strong sense of shame fancied, 
as the old man clambered aboard the 
schooner, that his movements were slower 
than of yore, 

"This is a dreadful business, Jack/ 7 he 
said, giving him a hearty grip. 

"Shocking/ 7 said Fraser, reddening. 

" IVe spoken to have the coastguards look 

Digitized by G* 

out for him," said the old man. " He may 
come ashore, and I know he'd be pleased to 
be put in the churchyard decent" 

" I'm sure he would," said Fraser. tl I 
suppose there's no chance of his having 
been picked up. I slung a life-belt over- 

Captain Barber shook his head. " It's a 
mysterious thing/* 
he said, slowly : ** a 
man who'd been at 
sea all his life to go 
and tumble over- 
board in calm 
weather like that." 

11 There's a lot 
that's mysterious 
about it, sir," said 
Joe, who had drawn 
near, followed by 
the others, " I can 
say that, because I 
was on deck only 
a few minutes be- 
fore it happened." 

"Pity you didn't 
stay up/ 1 said Cap- 
tain Barber, ruefully. 
"So I thought, 
sir," said Joe, "but 
the mate saw me on 
deck and made me 
go below, Two 
minutes afterwards 
I heard a splash, 
and the skipper was 

There was a mean- 
ing in his words 
that there was no 
mistaking. The old 
man looking round at the faces saw that 
the mate's was very pale. . 

11 What did he make you go below for ? " 
he asked, turning to Joe, 

" Better ask him, sir," replied the seaman. 
" I wanted to stay up on deck, but I 'ad to 
obey orders, If I *ad stayed on deck he 
wouldn't have been cap'nV 1 

Captain Barber turned and regarded the 
mate fixedly ; the mate, after a vain attempt 
to meet his ga^e, lowered his eyes to the 

" What do you say to all this ? " inquired 
Barber, slowly. 

" Nothing," replied the mate, " I did send 
Joe below and the skipper fell overboard a 
minute or two afterwards. It's quite true." 
" Fell ?" inquired Captain Barber. 
Original from 


don't stand gaping auout/ commanded the hew «atb/' 





" Fell," repeated the other, and looked him 
squarely in the eyes* 

For some time Captain Barber said nothing, 
and the men, finding the silence irksome, 
shuffled uneasily. 

" Fred saved your life once," said Barber, 
at length, 

" He did," replied Fraser* 

The old man turned and paced slowly up 
and down the deck. 

" He was my sister's boy," he said, halting 
in front of the mate, "but he was more like 
my son. His father and mother were 
drownded too, but they went down fair anil 
square in a j^ale* He stuck by his ship and 
she stuck by him, God bless her." 

Fraser nodded. 

"I'm obliged to you for bringing my ship 
from London," said Barber, slowly. "I 
sha'n't want you to take 'er back. I sha'n't 
want you to stay in 'er at all. I don't want 
to see you again/' 

" That's as you please," said Fraser, trying 
to speak unconcernedly. " It's your ship, and 
it's for you to do as you like about her. 111 
put my things together now." 

" You don't ask for no reason ? " asked 
Barber, eyeing him wistfully. 

The other shook his head. " No," he 
said, simply, and went below. 

He came up some little time later with his 
belongings in a couple of chests, and, the 
men offering no assistance, put them ashore 
himself, and hailing a man who was sitting 
in a cart on the quay, arranged with him to 
convey them to the station. 

" Is 7 e to be let go like this ? JJ said Joe, 

ik Will you stop me? "demanded Fraser, 
choking with rage, as he stepped aboard 

*■ Joe," said Ben, sharply. 

The seaman glared at him offensively, 

" Go for'ard," said the new mate, per- 
emptorily, "go for'ard, and don't make your- 
self so busy." 

The seaman, helpless with rage, looked 
to Captain Barber for guidance, and, the 
old man endorsing the new mate's order, 
went forward indulging in a soliloquy 
in which Ben as proper noun was mixed 
up in the company of many improper 

Fraser, clambering into the cart, looked 
back at the Foam. The old man was stand- 
ing with his hands clasped behind his hack 
looking down on the deck, w T hile the hands 
stood clumsily by. With an idea that the 
position had suddenly become intolerable 
he sat silent until they reached the station, 
and being for the first time for many 
months in the possession of a holiday, 
resolved for various reasons to pay a dutiful 
visit to his father at Bittlesea. 

{To bt continued.) 

Vol. xvui.^ 33 

by Google 

Original from 

The Assassin of the Empress - 

By Benj. H. Ridgely, U,S. Consul at Geneva. 


N the various newspaper ac- 
counts of the assassination of 
the Empress of Austria, which 
occurred in Geneva on the 
10th day of last September, 
ihcre were invariably some 
misleading statements ; and 
the assassin, 
reports have 
as to the nature of the 


since the condemnation of 
Lucheni, so many ridiculous 
been published 

punishment to which he is being subjected, 
that nobody seems to know the real facts. 
In my official capacity I have received 
numerous letters from persons in the United 
States asking for information as to Lucheni's 
prison life, and in one instance the wife of 
a distinguished New York lawyer, believing 
that the assassin is being tortured, proposes 
to institute a " humane movement," looking 
to an amelioration of his condition. In 
view of these facts and circumstances* it 
has occurred to me to write a brief and 
exact account of the assassination, and to 
give the true details of Lucheni's tigime in 
the Geneva penitentiary. 

There is also a most important and in- 
teresting bit of history in the episode of the 
Empress and the pastrycook which has here- 
tofore been unpublished and unknown. But 
for this little circumstance, which comes to 

me directly from _ -.- — •- 

a friend of 
the Baroness de 
Rothschild, the 
assassination of the 
Empress would not 
have been possible 
in Geneva, 

Certainly no gaol 
in the universe 
holds a more im- 
portant criminal 
than Lucheni, and 
if the spirit of re- 
pentance* which 
appears to have re- 
cently taken hold 
of him, works as 
effectively upon his 
conscience as those 
who are watch- 
ing him hope, 
it may result in 

revelations which will not only bring about 
the exposure and capture of his accom- 
plices, but may lay bare the secrets of the 
Anarchists for the past ten years to so full 
an extent that we shall probably even know 
when and where and under what circum- 
stances the sullen and cynical Caserio 
was chosen to assassinate President Sadi 
Carnot of France, at Lyons, in 1894, 
and just how the plot was designed and 
developed. Thus, after all, perhaps it is 
fortunate that capital punishment is not 
inflicted in Geneva, otherwise Lucheni, with 
the bravado of his kind, would have gone 
under the guillotine in the conventional way, 
crying: " Vive t' Anarch ie," and his brethren 
would have been spared the demoralizing 
spectacle of the most reckless and vicious 
and audacious of their lot turned into a 
trembling gaol-bird, singing Gospel hymns 
and weeping tears of repentance. Solitary 
confinement for life is a thousand times more 
trying than death. Ravachol, Emile Henry 
Vaillant, Caserio, were non^ of them more 
audacious or devilish than Lucheni, yet each 
of them died haughtily, with a sneer on his 
lips and heaping curses upon society. Seven 
months alone in his cell finds Lucheni 
demoralized and repentant. Perhaps it would 
be well to try all the Anarchists in Geneva. 

fVflJH fl] 

<TH,„. ini ,.r 1r 


nd is close to the spo©Pt#ifll6i "fe^ps was assassinated.) 




But to return to the assassination. The 
sun never shone upon a fairer day in Geneva 
than the 10th day of September, 1898. The 
fine, broad Quay du Mont-Blanc, the most 
beautiful promenade in the city, upon which 
the Brunswick Monument seems to rise up 
out of the blue waters of the lake, was asleep 
in the noonday sun. It was not yet the 
hour for promenaders, and the quay was 
almost deserted except at' the landing-stage 
near the Pont du Mont-Blanc, where the 
fine, fast steamer Lt Genhoe lay at the pier 
with steam up ready to depart at 1.40 for the 
upper end of the lake. 

At twenty minutes past one o'clock the 
Empress, unaccompanied except by her 
lady-in%raiting, the Countess Szarey, left 
the Hotel Beau-Rivage on foot to walk 
to the landing-stage, a hundred and 
seventy-five yards down the quay, to take 
the Gtfihve for Territet, which is the boat- 
station for Caux, where Her Majesty was 
spending the season. The two ladies crossed 
the street from the Beau-Rivage, and followed 
the side-walk close to the iron railing of the 
quay. They were unostentatiously attired, 
and none of the people they passed had any 
knowledge of their identity. At a point 
four-fifths of the way, between the Hotel 
Beau-Rivage and the boat-landing, a man 
was leaning over the railing of the quay, 
ostensibly looking out upon the port in front 
of the Hotel de la Paix. His back was 
turned to the side-walk. He was a young, 
rowdyish - looking little fellow of the day- 
labourer type — an unmistakable Italian. 
His clothes were ordinary cheap woollen 
garments. Under his slovenly sack-coat he 
wore a sort of 
jersey of blue and 
white; on his 
head a black felt 
hat. There was 
absolutely nothing 
in his appear- 
ance to arouse 

suspicion. In all the pathway of the 
Empress, he was the most commonplace 
figure ; but he was about to jhake the world 
ring with the story of the most abominable 
crime of the century. 

Just as the two ladies had approached 
within two steps of this man, he leapt quickly 
back from the railing and, whirling about, 
confronted them. Before they could even 
cry out, his right arm was raised and the fatal 
blow was struck. The blade of the shoe- 
maker's awl, a sort of great, three-sided 
darning-needle, with a rough wooden handle, 

Digitized byV^OOQlC 

had fallen swiftly and surely upon the bosom 
of the Empress. No quicker or truer blow 
was ever struck. The instrument penetrated 
to a distance of nearly eight inches and 
pierced the heart through and through. The 
wretch, quickly withdrawing his horrible 
stiletto, raised his arm as if to strike again ; 
but as the poor Empress tottered and fell, he 
seemed to change his mind, and darting 
between two fiacres fled up the Rue des 
Alpes, only to be captured after a run of 
two minutes. 

Meanwhile, the Empress having been 
helped to her feet by several of the cockers 
under whose very eyes the awful crime had 
been committed, had walked steadily on to 
the boat, and although feeling very faint and 
looking very pale, had apparently suffered no 
serious injury, and did not even dream she 
had been stabbed. She believed she had 
been assaulted by a robber, and that he had 
merely struck her a blow with his fist. This 
was also the idea of her companion, the 
Countess of Szarey, and of the several 
passengers who had witnessed the assault 
from the deck of the Genhx. In any event, 
the Empress retired into the cabin of the boat 
and reclined upon a divan. 

The Gentoe left her pier, proceeded out of 
the port, and was fully half a mile out in the 
lake when it was discovered that Her Majesty 
had lost consciousness. The boat put back 
to port, and the Empress was carried upon a 
stretcher to the Hotel Beau-Rivage. She 
never regained consciousness, and expired 
before the two surgeons who had been hastily 
summoned, were able to administer any 


From a Photograph in the hand* of th* police at Geneva. 

It was thought she had died from shock 
until an examination disclosed the wound. 
One small drop of blood bubbling on the 
skin was the only external evidence of the 
stiletto's deadly work. The autopsy dis- 
closed the fact that the terrible needle had 
passed directly through the heart. Internal 
bleeding caused the quick and almost pain- 
less death. Such is the exact story of the 

Meanwhile Lucheni had been arrested and 
taken to the prison St. Antoine, garrulous, 
boastful, enthusiastic — a poor, misled fool, 




who in perpetrating the most abominable of 
crimes believed himself a hero. His re- 
sponses to the questions that were put to 
him at the moment showed that he was well 
trained in his part. 

" What led you to commit so outrageous a 
crime? " he was asked. 

" I am an Anarchist," he replied, glibly ; 
"we are the agents of those who eat not, 
drink not, and have not ; we kill to call 
attention to ourselves," 

" Who were your accomplices ? " 

" My accomplices are all those who suffer," 
he answered, dramatically. 

" And why did you select an Empress for 
your victim, instead of a President or a 

" It was the good God who placed her in 
my path," answered the assassin, devoutly. 
And so on> with all the glib and senseless 
arguments of 
this awful 

It is unneces- 
sary to follow 
Lucheni through 
the two months 
of judicial in- 
vestigation and 
examination that 
preceded his 
final trial and 
His conduct was 
marked by the 
usual cynicism 
and bravado. 
He liked above 
all things to 
boast. His 
lawyer appointed 
by the Court to 
defe nd him 
made an elo- 
quent plea for 
mercy* It was 
the only plea pos- 
sible. Lucheni 
had been aban- 
doned even by 
his mother, and 
had been 
brought up in 
vice and poverty. 
How could society expect such a being to 
have the least moral perception? How 
could the law hold him responsible? 

The jury promptly found the assassin guilty 
without extenuating circumstances, and the 

-«£ I a 

* \ \ 

[ I 

^■2 E 




From a /*A&to P bv 4' 1 Utn and Jacom, Geneva. 


Court immediately sentenced him to imprison- 
ment for life at hard labour in the Geneva 
penitentiary, Lucheni did not disappoint 
the crowd. He heard his sentence passed 
with the accustomed cynical smile, and 
shouted the conventional cry of the 
Anarchists : " Death to Society — Long 
live Anarchy." 

Thus he was led out of court and back to 
his prison* That was the last the public 
ever saw of him, and perhaps will ever see, 

Almost before daybreak, one black 
November morning in 1898, the prison guards 
of St Antoine, accompanied by a small squad 
of gendarmes, sent by the Pr^fet of Police, 
escorted Lucheni from St, Antoine Gaol to 
the prison of the £v£ch£ — the cantonal 
penitentiary of Geneva. The transfer was 
made when the streets were absolutely empty, 
and nobody saw or knew anything of it. 

Hence there was 
no demonstra- 
tion, as there 
might otherwise 
have been. 

The Evech^ 
is a grim, old 
stone building, 
standing in a 
dark, narrow 
street hard by 
the famous old 
Church of St 
Pierre — Calvin's 
church — of 
which famous 
institution it was 
formerly the 
bishopry. At six 
o'clock in the 
morning Lucheni 
heard its great 
iron doors close 
upon his heels ; 
he saw the 
streets and 
houses, the life 
and bustle of the 
world, shut out 
from him for 
ever, and passed 
in to his living 
death. But the 
spirit of repent- 
him, and as the 
he shouted once 
street, u Vive 

3y Google 

had not yet touched 
prison doors closed him in 
more down the vacant 
V Anarch ie." 
Within sU^f^^J^ admitted to his 




priest that his cynicism was all bravado ; 
that within three hours after committing his 
awful crime he repented of it* He has also 
declared at last that he had accomplices, 
and it is believed he will tell who they were 
and all about them. Thus does the hardship 
of solitary confinement demoralize even the 
most dramatic and audacious of Anarchists. 

The question now turns upon Lucheni's 
regime in the cantonal penitentiary. All sorts 
of stories have been 
circulated as to the 
nature of the punish- 
ment to which he is 
being subjected. It 
has been published 
broadcast that he 
is confined in an 
underground cell 
into which no ray 
of light ever pene- 
trates; that his 
food, which is 
rough and barely 
sufficient to sustain 
life, is passed to 
htm through a hole 
as if to a beast in 
a cage, and that he 
is never allowed to 
speak a word to 
any living being ; 
in short, that he is 
being tortured. 

In this connec- 
tion, I publish the 
following extracts 
from a letter re- 
cently addressed to 
me in my official 
capacity by the 
wife of a distin- 
guished New York 
lawyer :— 

New York Cit}% March I3th> 1S99. 
To Renj. It. Rkigeiy, United States Consul, Geneva. 

Sir, — It is wilh no liltle reluctance thai I bring to 
your notice some recent facts that are painful and 
distressing in the extreme. Let me briefly say I was 
shocked find horrified, with the whole Christian 
world, by the assassination of the late Empress of 
Austria. A crime so unprovoked and cold-blooded 
calls for I he deepest indignation, the severest punish- 
ment. But does the just severity of law exact such 
modes of punishment as involve the unnecessary 
infliction of pain and suffering that amount lo the 
torture of the "Dark A^es^? 

If the end of punishment is not only to prevent 
further crime, but in the light of Christianity to open 
the eyes of the criminal to the enormity of his crime 
with the Jiojx? of final reformat ion, then is noijthe 
treatment of the assassin of the lamented Empress a 


From a I'k&to. bv d'Hlin m*4 Ja^m„ r.W™ 

dark blot on the boasted civilization of the nineteenth 
century ? If the public journals are correct in their 
statements, this poor r deluded, wretched murderer is 
confined in a dark dungeon twenty feet Mow ground^ 
without a ray of light and only sufficient air to enable 
him to iive for the daily torture, white his food is 
passed to kim through a hole in his prison d&or^ etc* 

Now, the facts are that Lucheni h not 
being tortured ; nor is he being pampered 
or heroized. Primarily, it is true that he is 
for the time being kept in solitary confine- 
ment, but not in 
an underground 
cell. On the other 
hand, his cell is on 
the rez-de-chamsee 
of the prison, and 
well lighted by a 
window that looks 
out into the prison 
court. It is a neat 
and clean cell, 
much larger and 
better ventilated 
than any cell I 
ever remember to 
have seen in an 
American peniten- 
tiary. The convict 
has a good, clean 
bed, with a straw 
mattress ; he has a 
small tabte and a 
chain He is com- 
fortably clad 3 not in 
convict stripes, but 
in good woollen 
garments, and is, in 
short, living under 
better conditions 
of cleanliness and 
wholesomen ess 
than he ever 
knew before in his 
Here is the daily routine of his regime: 
At six o'clock every morning he is aroused 
by the prison bell, and compelled to get out 
of bed and clean up his cell He then 
works at paper-box making, a trade he has 
just begun to learn, until eight o'clock, when 
he is served a litre of caft ou laii without 
sugar. At noon he has a dinner of soup 
and vegetables, and if he behaves himself 
well, a goblet of light red wine. For supper t 
at six o'clock, he has only soup. He is 
allowed a kilogram — 2 1 -5th lb. — of coarse 
dark bread a day. This he may eat at his 
three repasts in such proportion as pleases him, 
but he is not allowed to eat between meals. 




Twice a week — that is to say, on every 
Thursday and Sunday — all the prisoners of 
the Eveeh£, Lucheni included, are given a 
generous portion of some sort of boiled 
meat at the noonday repast Thus it will be 
seen that the Anarchist, though his daily hill 
of fare is by no means luxurious, is very well 
fed, better, doubtless, than he ever was before 
in his life, and much better than the great 
majority of the lower classes of his country- 

Twice every day Lucheni leaves his cell 
and goes to walk in the prison court for 
thirty minutes with all the other convicts. 
It is a mournful procession. The convicts 
are compelled to walk in single file one m&tre 
apart, and are not allowed to speak. The 
courtyard is small, and as the silent proces- 
sion moves round and round in a narrow 
circle, it presents a very sad and pitiful 
spectacle. On Sunday there is a service in 
the prison chapel, which all the convicts may 
attend if they desire ; and in spite of the 
fact that Anarchists pretend to scorn all 
religions, I am informed that Lucheni has 
become a regular attendant at the prison 

There is also a prison library, from which 
the prisoners may each take a book every 
Sunday. They are permitted to spend the 
whole of Sunday in reading, and may also 
find a few moments for the same pastime 
every day at the dinner-hour. When I went 
through the fiv£ch£ the other day, and when 
Lucheni's cell door was opened, I saw on his 
table a picturesque history of Switzerland, 
which he had evidently been reading as he 

I found that Lucheni had changed con- 
siderably since the day of his condemnation. 
His moustache 
was gone, and his 
face looked sleek 
and white and fat 
The lithe figure 
had also grown 
much stouter; he 
still wore the gum- 
elastic smile, but 
the air of bravado 
was missing. His 
eyes were down- 
cast ; his mien 
humble, It w f as 
easy to see that the 
spirit of the Anar- 
chist was broken. 

The only terrible 
feature of Lucheni's 

punishment is the continued silence and 
solitude. This is harder to support than 
death, and it is particularly hard to the 
verbose Lucheni. He sees before him a life 
absolutely without hope ; the ceaseless 
babbler is reduced to everlasting silence ; 
the preacher of the bad cause is without a 
public. The idle and noisy Anarchist must 
work industriously every day of his life from 
six in the morning until six at night, and 
cannot even expend the fruit of his labour, 
which must, on the other hand, go to support 
the institutions of the very society which he 
has so scorned and spat upon. No wonder 
his spirit is broken ; no wonder he repents. 
Certainly, if the Anarchists have any wit, they 
must see a dreadful satire in the fate of Luigi 

The question as to how long Lucheni will 
remain in solitary confinement remains to be 
seen. Solitary confinement is a mere question 
of prison discipline, and if Lucheni conducts 
himself well, it is not likely that he will be 
long denied the privilege which is accorded 
the other convicts of working in the prison 
shops, True, this is not much of a distraction, 
as a guard is constantly kept mounted over 
the prisoners as they work, and the exchange 
of a single word is forbidden and punished. 
However, they prefer it infinitely to solitary 
confinement, as it at least brings them 
together and enables them to see each other, 
and Lucheni will always be a hero to the 
lesser knaves, even though he may not speak 
to them/ 

In concluding this sketch, let me add a 
little bit of history — now published for the 
first time — to the story of the assassination 
of the Empress : a bit of history which will 
show what a trifling circumstance it was that 

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Front a Photo, by Locarno* and Arlaud, Geneva. 

made it possible for Lucheni to perpetrate 
his abominable crime in Geneva, 

It will be remembered that the 10th 
day of September, 1898, was Saturday. On 
the day before, Her Majesty had come down 
from Caux to lunch with the Baroness 
Rothschild, whose great white chAteau on the 
heights, just outside of Geneva, is the finest 
show-palace on Lake L£man. 

The Baroness Rothschild also has the 
finest and fastest 
yacht on the lake. 
As a matter of 
fact, it is said to be 
one of the fastest 
crafts afloat, and 
can do the forty- 
five miles from the 
Baroness's boat- 
house at Bellevue 
to Territet, the 
station for Caux at 
the other end of 
the lake, in a little 
less than two 

After the lun- 
cheon on Friday, 
the Baroness in- 
sisted upon send- 
ing the Empress 
back to Territet in 
her yacht, and Her 

Majesty was about to 
accept the invitation 
when she remembered 
that she had sent word 
to a little confectioner 
in the Boulevard du 
Th^itre, of whose 
chocolate she was very 
fond, that she would 
visit his shop that 
afternoon to take a 
cup of chocolate and 
to get some chocolat 
bonbons and other 
sweets^ And in spite of 
the insistence of the 
Baroness, she kept to 
this engagement and 
went with her com- 
panion, the Countess 
Szarey, to the bright 
little patisseries where 
the t wo grea t 
ladies had a famous little spree with their 
chocolate and cakes, and gladdened the 
heart of the little pastrycook beyond all ex- 
pression by their compliments and purchases, 
But it cost the poor Queen her life. For 
instead of going directly from the Chateau 
de Rothschild in the yacht of the Baroness, 
as she would otherwise have done, she 
spent the night in Geneva, and found 
death in her pathway the next day. 



by Google 

Original from 



Twice a week— that is to say, on every 
Thursday and Sunday — all the prisoners of 
the Ev£ch£, Lucheni included, are given a 
generous portion of some sort of boiled 
meat at the noonday repast* Thus it will be 
seen that the Anarchist, though his daily bill 
of fare is by no means luxurious, is very well 
fed 3 better, doubtless, than he ever was before 
in his life, and much better than the great 
majority of the lower classes of his country- 

Twice every day Lucheni leaves his cell 
and goes to walk in the prison court for 
thirty minutes with all the other convicts. 
It is a mournful procession* The convicts 
are compelled to w T alk in single file one mfetre 
apart, and are not allowed to speak. The 
courtyard is small, and as the silent proces- 
sion moves round and round in a narrow 
circle, it presents a very sad and pitiful 
spectacle. On Sunday there is a service in 
the prison chapel, which all the convicts may 
attend if they desire ; and in spite of the 
fact that Anarchists pretend to scorn all 
religions^ I am informed that Lucheni has 
become a regular attendant at the prison 

There is also a prison library, from which 
the prisoners may :h take a book every 
Sunday, They are permitted to spend the 
whole of Sunday in reading, and may also 
find a few moments jur the same pastime 
ever>' day at the dinner- hour. When I wunt 
through the fiveche the other day, and when 
Lucheni's cell door was opened, I saw on his 
table a picturesque history of Switzerland, 
which he had evidently been reading as he 

I found that Lucheni had changed con- 

siderably since the clay of his condemnation. 

His moustache 

was gone, and his 

face looked sleek 

and white and fat. 

The lithe figure 

had also grown 

much stouter; he 

still wore the gurn- 

elastic smile, but 

the air of bravado 

was missing. His 

eyes were down- 
cast ; his mien 

humble. It was 

easy to see that the 

spirit of the Anar- 
chist was broken. 
The only terrible 

feature of Lucheni's 

punish i 
solir ; 
babble l 
the i 
public . 
work i i « 
six in 
which 1 1 
the in? 
has so 
his sp: 
must * 


of prv 

long ■ 
the < , 

as a 




and L 






Burmese teak is a gold mine to the Indian 
Government Sugden — the fool who is 
giving the dinner-party— is interpreter to the 
D.C. ; he knows Chinese, and Shan, and 
Kachin, and he can talk to the warrior Wahs 
like a father. 

And then the D.C. himself ! Well, every- 
body in Burma knows about Douglas being 
mad. A man doesn't spend fifteen years in 
malarious valleys without developing every 
little eccentricity in his nature into some- 
thing perilously near insanity. And Douglas 
was one of these men, tall, lank, cadaverous, 
taciturn, but clever — "mad, but clever," they 
said down at the Pegu Club at Rangoon. 

But the maddest thing Douglas did was to 
fall in love with a little Irish governess. She 
was going to Shanghai. He was coming 
back to Burma after a year's leave. She 
never went to Shanghai. Douglas persuaded 
her to leave the boat at Colombo, and they 
were married. Then he brought her up 
to the stewing, sweltering, fever realm of 
Bhamo. And there she was now. There 
wasn't another English lady nearer than 

Her coming had upset everything. The 
chief outer thing noticeable, however, was 
that all the men shaved daily, instead of 
twice a week as before. And they took off 
their jungle boots and put on shoes that had 
actually trodden the pavement of Piccadilly, 
and went over to the Deputy-Commissioner's 
bungalow in the afternoon to have tea and 
cake with the Mrs. D.C. 

And now Sugden was giving a dinner- 
party, and the men were swearing and climb- 
ing into their crumpled dress suits ! 

Wigmore went on the veranda, and lay 
back in a long-armed chair, and stuck his 
legs up. He was a good-looking fellow, 
bright -eyed, bronzed, the sort of chap of 
whom you find many in Burma, larky, reckless, 
much of a dare-devil. But he was unflinch- 
ing as wrought steel when a Kachin stockade 
had to be rushed ; a man not of much note 
in the long roll of the Empire's employes, 
but a man all the same, who was doing his 
little share to knitting up, and tightening 
up, and welding that swampy corner of the 
Queen's dominions into useful property. 

Old Hal came out fuming and swearing as 
only a man in the Forests Department can 

" Sugden's a silly ass," he said, fastening a 
silk handkerchief in between his neck and 
his collar. Then — " Halloa, you ! " he bawled, 
as a slim Britisher came sauntering along the 
jungle path. " Why, Sugden, what the hang- 


Vol. xviii.— 39. 

ment brings you here ? Aren't you giving 
a dinner to-night, and aren't I cursing you 
because I've got into this beastly garb of 
civilization ? Aren't you going to dress your- 

" No, I'm not," said Sugden, looking up. 
" Hasn't Wright been here ? " 

" Devil a bit. But you're not going to 
give a dinner to the Mrs. D.C. in flannels, 
are you ? " 

" No, you fool. Got any whisky up there ? 
Well, I want a * peg.' I told Wright to let 
you know that the Mrs. D.C. couldn't come. 
The heat's bowled her over, and she's got 
fever, and she's taking ten grains of quinine 
every two hours." 

"Well, what about the feed?" asked 

" Oh, the feed's all right ; come along." 

" I'm hanged if I'm coming in this dress," 
gasped Halliwell. " I'll go through a good 
deal of discomfort to be courteous to a lady, 
but neither you, the D.C, Wigmore, and the 
whole shoot of you, including the Lieutenant- 
Governor himself, will get me to dine in June 
in a stand-up collar." 

" Pull the thing off. Now that the Mrs. 
D.C. isn't coming, let us feed as we've always 

" In pyjamas ? " 

" Yes, in pyjamas ! You needn't bring 
any along. I've plenty for the lot of us* 
We'll have one of the old nights — long pegs, 
long chairs, and pyjamas." 

"Sugden, you're not the idiot I thought 
you were," shouted Halliwell. 

Then he dived back into the bungalow. 

" Qui hi! You lazy sweep, come g,nd help 
me to pull these things off." 


It was a good dinner. And when it was 
over, and the men got into the long chairs 
— chairs that the laziness of the East has 
invented — and the smoke of the cheroots 
went curling overhead, the Madrasee boy was 
busy walking from sahib to sahib making 
stiff "pegs." 

They were half-a-dozen men — cheery, 
merry, and garrulous— brought together in 
that far outpost. They were taking life 
easily, though next week one of them might 
" go under " from malaria. Men are always 
" going under " in Burma, 

" Dead ! Is he dead— really ? " people 
would say. " He was a decent sort of fellow. 
Who's going to have his crib ? " 

They laughed, did these half-dozen sallow, 
climate-racked Britishers, for Halliwell of the 




WI- I.I. HAVt ONIi I IK I tit: OLD Mf.HTS, 

Forests was speaking* He was round and 
stout, and he spoke in gusts, 

"The rummiest go 1 ever came across I" 
he was saying, " I'd be hanged if the old 
chap wasn't perspiring. It's all right for a 
fat Englishman like me to perspire, but when 
stone Buddhas start perspiring— well, I'm 
thinking the end of the world is near at 
hand There was the great image, as big 
as six men, his legs crossed, and him sitting 
on his heels, and one palm bent down and 
another bent up, as though he wanted half- 
pence, and that idiotic, vacant stare of his, 
as though lie wanted kicking and waking up ! 
And water was trickling out of his brain and 
his neck and his chest and all over him. It 
was curious. You bet the Burmese got into 
a pretty blue funk. They came for miles 
round, and they sat clown and watched the 
trickles, and they made offerings to the god. 
There was one old woman brought a splendid 
bunch of plantains." 

" How do you know? ' 1 interrupted Wright 

" You don't think I was going to leave the 
plantains to waste, do you, when I wanted 
some up at the dak bungalow? Well, I sent 
the boy out at dusk, and lie stole them." 

" If the D,C, heard of that he'd carpet 

"Not him. But just you listen. You 
know the Buddhists began to get frightfully 
excited over that sweating old stone image of 
theirs. I never saw folks get so fearfully 
religious as the Burmese round that district 



But what do you 
think— you, Wig- 
more, what do 
you think hap- 
pened ? " 

"Why, I should 
not be surprised 
to hear it was all 
due to Buddha 
having to wear 
starched shirts." 

"Oh, you goto 
the deuce," said 
Halliwell. "Well, 
the thing that 
happened was 
this : another 
blessed Buddha 
took to the grow- 
ing of a mous- 
tache ! " 

A roar of laugh- 
ter ran round the 
lolling group of 
Sugden's guests, 
" Oh, draw it mild ! " 

"That's just what I did do," said Halliwell, 
feeling that his story was beginning to interest. 
" But don't you interrupt. This Buddha is 
a bigger chap than the other, and he's in a 
thick chunk of jungle between here and 
Myothit It's pretty clammy and swampy, 
and folks don't go that way often. Who the 
idiot was that stuck a great giant of a Buddha 
figure there, the Lord knows and I don't 
Anyhow, it's been there a long time. Well, 
some fool of a saintly Burman went and 
found it about six weeks ago. And just then 
the thing began to grow a moustache. It did, 
no humbug, for I saw it myself. Of course, 
the pongytes — the priests — in the district 
were simply knocked all to pieces with excite- 
ment The moustache grew and grew, and 
there was no doubt it was a miracle, and all 
sorts of wonderful things were going to 
happen. It was a harvest time for those 
bald-headed old pongytes^ for Pm not 
thinking the image of Buddha got away 
with all the offerings made to him. That 
moustache it grew : why — why it grew just 
about six hundred times as fast as yours 
does, Wright. I got wind of the thing a 
fortnight ago. I got up early, told my bearer 
not to say I had been out, and slipped off to 
see the marvellous Buddha, And, as true as 
the rupee is going down to a shilling, there it 
was, right enough ; a big lump of brown stuff 
growing on the upper lip, I climbed up into 
the lap of the Buddha, slipped out my knife ? 




4 % 

and in two jiffies I had shaven the gentle- 
man. And you'd never believe it: why, that 
moustache was nothing but a piece of fungus 
that had selected the god's upper Up as a 
good growing ground. Heavens, you chaps 
don't know the hullabaloo there is out there, 
A perspiring Buddha was marvel enough, but 
a Buddha that 
grew a moustache 
and then mysteri- 
ously got shaved, 
why, it's knocked 
the Burmese clean 
off their feet. They 
say the world's 
going to come to 
an end, or that 
Buddha's coming 
to the earth again. 
Most of them 
fancy the coming 
again business," 

The bungalow- 
was thick with 
smoke, and Wig- 
more, who was 
sprawling back, 
trying to be both 
undignified and 
comfortable, was 
converting his 
cheroot into as 
much smoke as 

" It would be 
rather a good joke/' 
he said, "if Bud- 
dha did come 
again ! " il u* two jjFrisa 1 had 

"If Buddha 
grew ringlets!" grunted Halliwell, who, 
having finished his story, dill n't want it spoilt 
by irrelevant remarks. 

"I mean," Wjgmore went on, "if a little 
joke were played on the innocent Burman, 
and an amateur Buddha was rigged up." 

" An amateur fiddlestick rigged up," puffed 

" Well, it's tame enough up here to go 
in for any sort of excitement," remarked 
Sugden, "We might make Halliwell into a 
Buddha, He's the only paunchy one among 
us ; all the rest are a bit scraggy." 

"Yes," said Halliwell, "you'll catch me 
going about dyed in walnut juice, sitting half 
naked on a lump of stone> and then Wig more 
giving the whole show away by writing one of 
those articles of his he thinks humorous in 
the Rangoon Gazette^ and me being the 

laughing stock of the whole Irawaddy, You 
catch me, don't you ? Not if I know it." 

But the other men caught the fun of the 
idea, Life certainly was a bit monotonous 
at Bhamo. And if a proposition had been 
made to burn the whole place down to 
provide an afternoon's amusement, there 

would have been 
a majority of the 
Englishmen there 
enthusiastically in 
favour. And the 
plan of a hoax m 
the shape of an 
amateur Buddha 
gave room for end- 
less complications 
and not a little 
The Burmese had 
been worked into 
a state of tremb- 
ling awe : first by 
the perspiring 
image, and then 
by the image that 
grew a moustache 
and was so mys- 
teriously shaved. 

11 1 say, chaps," 
shouted Sugden, at 
last, "the thing^s 
much too good to 
be missed. If I 
weren't a long, 
lanky devil I'd take 
on Buddhaship 

" Well, the pon- 

gyees are pretty 

them,'' interpolated the 

the Forests Department 


by Google 

lean, some of 

representative of 

with a glimmer of apprehension what was 


"Oh, you're no good for fun, Halliwell," 
answered back Sugden, "We want a well- 
fed Buddha, and you're the only well-fed 
one among us." 

" III see you " 

" I propose that Halliwell be delegated as 
representer of Buddha for the space of a 
fortnight, 1 ' said Wigmorc, " and general 
amusement provider for the whole British 
crowd in Burma for the space of the next 
two years*" 

"That f s seconded by me," said Wright, 

"And it's carried by the whole shoot of 
us," put in Sugden ; " and if Halliwell shirks 
Original from 





it, the penalty is to he a dozen cases of 
champagne, and I'll do the ordering." 


It was to be done. Even a Forests man is 
obliged to have some sense of humour. 

And Wigmore as co- partner with Halliwell 
in the bungalow had opportunities of demon- 
strating to the surveyor of teak that really he 
was an extraordinarily lucky fellow. 

" Why, you old ass," was the kindly way 
he put it, " you'll have no end of a good 
time. You'll be a very emperor." 

" Yes, I suppose I will," said Halliwell, 

Within a week, however, his opposition 
melted very curiously away. He was a marvel 
to all fellows by reason of his joyousness. 
The sudden change of front astonished them, 
Had he a special scheme of his own up his 
sleeve, or was he, belated humorist, beginning 
to see that he was going to make a hero of 

"When I go into a thing I go in neck or 
nothing; and if there isn't a good deal of 
fun, well, it won't be my fault," was all he 

The plot was kept a secret. Even the 
Deputy-Commissioner was not made a party 
to it. Only the stealthy-footed Madrasee had 
to be taken into confidence. He showed no 
surprise ; not a flicker of a smile came to his 
lips ; he was passive. He said, " Yes, sahib ! " 
as he would say, " Yes, sahib ! " when asked 
to bring the whisky. 

by Google 

Joseph Halliwell 
disappeared, and Wig- 
more's bearer, the 
Madrasee, went with 
him. For a whole 
morning there was 
suppressed excite- 
ment among five 
men in Bhamo. 

They came across 
one another at in- 
tervals, and smiled 
blankly. [Jut at 
noon they gathered 
in the two-roomed 
hut which they 
dubbed " The Bhamo 
Club," and while 
having their ante-tiffin 
gin -cocktails, Wright 
came out dolefully 
with the remark, 
" He'll have a brute 
of a time, with nothing 
to wear, and nothing to eat but rice, and 
not a peg nor a cocktail within seventeen 

" That will be a bit stiff! " added Sugden. 
(< You see," said Wright, " I've been think- 
ing it all out. There may be fun in pretend- 
ing to be another Buddha, but he'll have to 
eat nothing but rice like the other pongyze^ 
and only one meal of that a day. He'll 
starve and get fever, and I daresay we'll have 
to go out and look for his corpse." 

" You Ve a cheerful cuss, Wright," said 
Wigmore* " getting that sort of thing into 
your head. Besides, he went readily enough. 
Why, no chap saw the fun of the thing 
clearer than he did." 

"Yes, but that was after we, and especially 
you, had been badgering the life out of him. 
Life in the jungle on rice and paddy water is 
preferable to the dance we led him," said 
Wright, determined to be gloomy, "And 
I'm ashamed of myself for egging old Hal 

" It'll be all right when it's over," said 
Wigmore, with an attempt at cheerfulness, 
though he himself began to doubt the entire 
wisdom of the plot. 

Finishing his cocktail, he exclaimed, "Of 
course, it'll be all right, and this'll be the best 
joke that's ever been played in Bhamo. I 
shouldn't mind if I w T ere playing it myself, 
Hal will be the lion of Mandalay when he 
goes down river. But we'll have a roaring 
time when he comes back. Wait till those 
cases come up on the steamer Swtbo, the 
Original from 



champagne and the burgundy, and the pre- 
served meats and bottled fruits — why, we'll 
have a spread fit for the Viceroy," 

"That you won't," said the doleful Wright, 
" for I've heard that the things have been 
dumped down 11 1 Katha, and - why, you your- 
self said you would send down your Madrasee 
to bring them up. And now the Madrasee 
has gone off with Hal, and the river has sunk 
ho precious low that the Swebo gets on a 
sand-bank every two miles, so that I'm 
blessed if we're likely to see those things for 
a month/* 

"The deuce we're not/' ejaculated 
Wigmore, in dismay. 

Halliwell was forgotten in the general con- 
sternation at the food supply likely to be cut 

"Welt have to fall back on that German 
storekeeper," ventured Sugden, "and live 
on sardines and tinned Army rations till 
things come up. But it's a nuisance," 

Anyway, Halliwell had disappeared, and 
Sugden and Wigmore and Wright and the 
others waited anxiously three days, four days, 
and five days for news. But there was none. 

The natives could not be openly ques- 
tioned. The conspirators listened for some 
whispers among the 
Burmese that crowd- 
ed round the D.C.'s 
court-house about 
the new Buddha, 

But never a whis- 
per could be heard. 
Not till the sixth 

On the sixth day 
Wigmore got a note 
from Douglas, the 
Deputy -Commis- 

" I wish you would 
come over and see 
me, A most 
story has just been 
brought in by a 
man from the 
hills. There's a 
fat Jiurman who's 
come down from 
the upper reaches 
of the river, who 
pretends he is 
Buddha. He's 
quite evidently 
a madman, but 
just the sort of 

by Google 

person to cause trouble among the natives. 
1 hear he's preaching against the English. 
This is in your department the Military 
Police* What had better be done ? Come 
over, and let us stop any rising before it 
gets out of hand" 

A low whistle escaped from the lips of 
Lieut. Wigmore as he read. 

"GId Hal is playing it stiff," he said. 
" There'll be ruction s, I'm afraid, when the 
D.C* knows what the game really is, Hal 
will get a wigging from his chiefs, and there'll 
be no end of a row. Phew ! ?? 

He went over to the Deputy-Commis- 
sioner's court. 

"Come in, come in/ 5 shouted Douglas, as 
he saw the figure of the young lieutenant at 
the door. The D.C was sitting in a cheap 
office chair before a big, square, wooden- 
topped table plentifully besplashed with ink. 
It was a dingy room, bare-boarded. A few 
scale maps were on the wall, 

" This is a curious business," said Douglas, 
leaning back and lighting a cheroot. He 
was long and thin, and his face was that of a 
man not given to much nonsense. "You'd 
better hear what the fellow- says who came in 
this morning from the hills," 

The man was called. 
He was a squat-shaped 
little Burman, with a 
chequered hinget 
wrapped about his 
waist, and he was wear- 
ing a white jacket 
and a tight-fitting 
piece of yellow- 
silk twisted about 
his head. He drop- 
ped on his knees, 
native fashion, 
upon entering 
the D.C/s pre- 
sence, and then 
sat on his heels 
all the time he 
was talking with 
Douglas, whom 
he persistently 
called "his lord." 
" Look here," 
said the D.C, 
speaking in Bur- 
mese, " I want 
you to tell me 
again about this 
new Buddha of 
yours — tell me 


.Original from 




The Burman made a cringing motion, as 
though to suggest that his head be chopped 
off if he failed in the truth. 

"Sahib, my lord," he said, "the Light of 
the Universe has come. In the jungle below 


Ky-han he 1ms appeared. He is clad in 
raiment of beautiful silks, he is round of 
figure, and has the dignity of a king. He 
declares he is the Buddha, the new teacher, 1 ' 
" Well, does he speak Burmese ? " asked 

the ac 

"Not well ; indeed, badly. But he has 
come from the sacred mount of Omi, he 
says, to tell of a new religion. The pongyees 
up to now have all been silent men, 
ignoring the pleasures of life. But the 
new Buddha says there is to be a fresh 
dispensation— that life is to be merry and 
glad. He has told the pongyees austerity 
must cease. He has taken possession of the 
Temple of the Sacred Hair, and there he 
lives. And sahib, my lord, he has all the 
food and drink that my lords the English 
have : sparkling water in bottles with golden 
necks, and wonderful foods out of tins. 
Nobody knows where they come from ; he 
says he commands them to come merely by 
wishing, and then they come." 

A groan escaped Wig more, and he bit his 
cheroot in two, "That fiend, Halliwell," he 
muttered, "has diverted those cases of 
champagne from Katha and is living like a 
fighting-cock, while we're near starvation." 

by Google 

The Burman went on : " The Pleasure of 
Life is what the new Master teaches. He 
says there's been enough sadness in the 
world ; now there is to be nothing but joy, 
and he is the bringer of it. Every day he 
has feasts. Then in the evening 
there are pwis ; all the best dancing- 
girls in the district appear before 
him, and they dance and the 
new Buddha claps his hands 
and gives them to drink of 
the sparkling water out 
of the bottles with golden 
necks, and everybody 
gets very merry," 

" He's a bit of a 
Turk, is this Bud- 
dha, eh? 71 said 
Douglas, turning 
to Wjg more, who 
was nervously draw- 
ing unmeaning 
lines in ink on the 
D.CYs table. 

" A bit of a — oh t 
yes, certainly : it is 
odd, isn't it? But 
there's — there's a 
sort of— sort of me- 
thod in his madness^ 
don't you think? 1 * 
Douglas didn't answer, but turning again 
to the squatting Burman, said : " How on 
earth did he first appear ; how was he able 
to get people to believe in him ? " 

" It was at night, The moon was clear as 
day. We were all lying on our mats enjoy- 
ing the cool and watching a fiwL Suddenly 
down the jungle path there came a strange 
thing. It was like a mass of silver light, 
giving off fumes. When in shadow it glowed 
mysteriously ; but in the moonlight it 
deadened almost to extinction. It was 
shouting, ' I am the Buddha ; I am the 
Buddha. * We bad all been laughing and 
merry-making, and the dancing-girls were 
very charming. But it alt stopped in an 
instant when this figure appeared. The 
voice was so strange, not like a Bur man's at 
all, and the night had something mysterious 
about it, that we were all startled and 
affrighted. We all fell on our faces before 
the apparition, thinking the great hour had 
come. When I looked up, there was the 
wonderful thing standing among us, with 
curious smoke, like moonlight rays, coming 
from it. He — it spoke in a kind voice, and 
told us he was the Buddha, and that true 
happiness lay, not in subjection of the spirits, 

Original from 




but in every person being natural, doing just 
what he wanted to ; that there was to be no 
more restraint in the world. The pongyees y 
priests, at the temple didn't know what to 
say. He talked to them just as though he 
were a god* He said they were to remain 
p&ngyees^ but their life must be altered : they 
were to go in for enjoyment, they w T ere to be 
the directors of the feasts, they were each to 
be married." 

Douglas had been sitting with tight features, 
listening to the extraordinary story. But 
when the narrator, without a ruffle on his 
countenance, said that Buddhist priests were 
to be married, this was too much for even 
his cold officialism. 

He broke out with a cracked, uneven 
laugh that made Wigmore look up sharply. 
For Wigmore was very uncomfortable. He 
was glad to hear the laugh. He had a sort 
of idea that yesterday he would have laughed 
inordinately- Buddhist priests marrying ! It 
was ridiculous. 

" And Buddha the Second, 1 ' said the D,C. 
to the Burman, "I suppose he's going to 
marry?" There was a suggestion of mirth 
in the question, and certainly the grey eyes 
of Douglas twinkled. 

"My lord, yes ; at the birth of the new 
moon he takes to wife Mah Nay Tohn." 

" Ah ! Miss Sunshine ! ,3 said the Deputy- 
Commissioner, translating the name into 
English. "And what do the people in your 
district think of it all ? " 

**My lord, everybody knows this is the 
new Buddha. He sits in state 
in the temple, and worship- 
offerings are brought to him 
from all the country round : 
gold from over the frontier ; 
jade — oh j such lovely jade — 
and amber and rubies from 
the Shan hills." 

"Well, Til be hanged," 
suddenly interrupted Wig- 
more, with a stare of sur- 

"Eh?" said the IXC 

" I say it's mighty curious." 

" It is curious." 

When the Burman had 
made his salaams and de- 
parted, Douglas trifled with a 
lead pencil. He knit his brows, 
and then glancing sideways at 
the young lieutenant of the 
Military Police, said, nonchalantly, £l I sup- 
pose you don't know anything about this ? " 

Wigmore had never felt so ill at ease in 

his life. He'd better make a clean breast of 
the whole thing ! 

" Well — that is, well, I think some joke is 
being played," 

u That's just what I think," said Douglas, 
who was quite astute enough to see that the 
capering of the amateur Buddha w T as not 
the conduct of an irresponsible lunatic. 
" He's no fool, whoever he is," he said. 

" No, he's no fool/' agreed Wigmore. He 
wanted to blurt straight out what was in 
his mind, but somehow the words hung 

11 Now, that moonshiny smoke the Burman 
talked about was phosphorescence. That's 
plain enough. And that sparkling water in 
bottles with the golden necks was cham- 
pagne. I've an intuition it was champagne. 
Then, directing that the p§mgy&$ should 
marry — that's a master-stroke ! There's a 
farce on somewhere, I've half an idea it's a 
scheme of some of those roguish subalterns 
down at Mandalay." 

"You think it's— it's a European, then ? " 
asked Wigmore, surprised at the D.C's easy 
penetration of the plot, 

"Oh, I know Burmese tricks, and I know 
British tricks. Now, that's a British trick. 
But it may cause bother, and Tve a good 
mind to arrest — — n 

11 Well, I was going to tell you," Wig- 
more urged himself to say. "I think it's only 
well you shouldn't be that is, that it's not 
right you should be- -as IXC. you should 
know everything and not be kept in the 





Original from 



dark. You see that Sugden and — and I, 

andHalliwell " 

Then he told the Deputy-Commissioner 
the whole yarn. jy 

It is not improbable the D.C. really enjoyed 
the joke. But he was an official, and he had 
sufficient appreciation of his official dignity 
not to parade his enjoyment. 

" It had better be stopped at once," was 
the curt way he gave his decision. 

Wigmore and Sugden were deputed to 
hurry off to the masquerading Forests 
officer, and stop his fooling. For the mo- 
ment, at any rate, appearances had to be 
kept up that the new Buddha was a dan- 
gerous impostor. So Wigmore went because 
he was Lieutenant of the Military Police, 
and Sugden went because it was known he 
could talk all the strange tongues from Tibet 
to Siam. 

Certainly they were loth to go. Their 
great joke was about to end in a fizzle. 
Besides, the laugh was against them. Halli- 
well would always have the telling of the 
story. And it isn't pleasant to twist un- 
comfortably in a chair while another man 
is telling a yarn against you. 

The rains were still holding off. Upper 
Burma was quivering with the heat, and the 
swampy jungles oozed stifling and sickly 
odours. The little mounds were parched 
dun. The tall, sword -like jungle grass 
withered and split and drooped from lack 
of sap. The ground caked and foot-wide 
gapis yawned. The tremendous heat made all 
distant objects seem to shake as though 
reflected in a quivering mirror. 

Wigmore swore. 

Sugden swore also. 

They were upon a pair of rough, shaggy 

" Anyway," said the interpreter to the 
D.C, "if old Hal, the ruffian, hasn't finished 
all the champagne, I'm going to crack a 
couple of bottles to my own cheek. Why 
the hangment didn't the D.C. get a note 
sent up to Halliwell instead of us trapesing 
off goodness knows where ? " 

" A sort of punishment, I reckon," ventured 

"Punishment be hanged. Lord, isn't it 

The ponies plunged and stumbled over the 
uneven ground. And at every plunge and 
every stumble the two men groaned. Occa- 
sionally they cursed. 

Suddenly the sharp thud of a tabor was 
heard. They swung along the narrow path 

that cut through the forest, and ropes of 
giant creepers swayed above them, and once 
or twice nearly unhorsed them. Presently 
shrill pipes joined with the clatter of the 
tabor ; and then came gusts of song, the 
clapping of hands, and tinkling laughter. 

Bursting through the foliage the two men 
drew rein. For the sight was a strange one. 
The village was farther up the valley, but 
here was the temple, a wide building, with 
broad, shadowy eaves, the balustrades curved 
grotesquely and painted red. Two writhing 
monsters with long fangs glared by the 
entrance. The pagoda was five-storied, each 
story lapping over the other like a pile of 
ornamented silk hats. A hundred little bells 

On the ground in front sat a merry throng 
of Burmese. Their mats were spread, and 
they were making holiday. The men's 
gorgeous lun-gees^ or skirts, were a blaze of 
colour, and above their brown faces, encir- 
cling their heads, were even more gorgeous 
handkerchiefs. The girls were as merry and 
as frolicsome as Burmese girls always are. 
Their little skirts were tied tight about their 
hips, but their green and yellow and purple 
waistcoats were loose, and their little under- 
vests were of dazzling whiteness. Jade beads 
entwined their necks, and gold bangles 
clattered on their wrists. The hair of every 
girl was greasy and glossy, and in the folds 
was always a bright-tinted flower. Every- 
body smoked cheroots — big, cumbersome 
things, much like a maize cob before being 
stripped of its leaves. 

A pwe was in progress. A pwi is a native 
entertainment, generally of dancing. A score 
of long, slim Burmese girls, graceful limbed, 
were slowly gyrating through the intricacies 
of a posture dance. Their attire was gaudy, 
even fantastic, and every figure swung at the 
beat of the tabor and in unison to the 
piercing squeal of the pipes. 

A double row of priests, shaven-headed, 
with yellow robes about their shoulders, 
squatted on either side of the dancers. 

It was a picturesque scene. The quaint, 
carved temple with the writhing dragons, the 
smooth gliding dancers, butterfly clad, the 
dun-vestured and tonsured pongyees, the 
sprawling throng of holiday-making Burmese, 
and behind, the tall thick jungle : that was 
the sight that struck the two Britishers at 
first glance. 

" I'll be jiggered ! " said Wigmore, deter- 

" And I ! " added Sugden. 

" Look at him ; look at the old reprobate. 


u I I I ■_' I I I 




Well, if that doesn't lick cock-fighting, may I 
never see Rangoon again.*' 

Beneath the darkened eave of the temple 
sat Ha Hi well. There was no doubt it was 
Halliwell, despite he had stained his face till 


he was like a mulatto. A green scarf was 
round his head ; a loose ? green silk jacket, 
gold embroidered, hung upon his shoulder. 
His inn gee was the variegated hue of a 
Neapolitan ice-cream. 

"And that's Miss Sunshine, is it? " Sugden 
said, in a sort of half- whisper. li Well, Halli- 
well has got taste ; yes, he's got taste ; more 
taste than I thought a bald-headed old sinner 
like him ever could have." 

By Hall i well's side was sitting a pleasant- 
featured little Burmese lass, daintily dressed 
and with smiling eyes, which she frequently 
raised towards the flabby face of the English 

Wigmore turned in his saddle to Sugden, 
" Fm going to smash the whole show 
up right away," he exclaimed. "Come 


, » 

He dug his spurs into the pony. With a 
bound it dashed right among the merry- 
makers* Podgy Burmese rolled on the 
ground, and all the Mah-me's and Mah-To's 
and other maidens screamed. The priests 
jumped to their feet. One dashed into the 
temple and belaboured a gong. 

For two minutes there was scampering 
confusion. A grin broke from the lips of 
the amateur Buddha, and began to crawl 
up both cheeks. But he put his hand on 

Vol, Kviii.— 40 

Digitized by t^OOQ I C 

the long, neat arm of the affrighted girl by 
his side, and whispered to her. 

The two ponies, a little frisky from the 
din that was going on, were restless. 
Halliwell rose with mock dignity. 

"What the 
Y*- dickens brings you 

chaps? " he bawl- 
ed, pompously, in 
English, as though 
he were saying, 
t( Begone, ye ac^ 
cursed of the 
earth I ■ 

" It's all up," 
yelled Wigmore 
hark, trying with 
difficulty to keep 
his pony still. 
11 The D,C, knows 
all about this busi- 
ness ; he's in a 
brute of a rage, 
and is going to 
report it to Ran- 
goon if it's not 
stopped at once." 
Halliwell kept 
up his defiant atti- 
tude, but he said, " Not one of them knows a 
word of English, so it's all right. My Bur- 
mese is a bit shaky ; but I explained, as I 
had just come from Heaven, I hadn't got 
quite accustomed to the language of mortals. 
However, I've got on all right — oh, indeed, 
I've got on splendidly." 

" You look it," roared Wigmore, " Con- 
found this pony 1 Do, for goodness sake, 
tell that old fellow to slop banging the gong," 
The Burmese, seeing their new Buddha 
was boldly speaking to the strangers in their 
own tongue, began cautiously to crawl back, 
Halliwell addressed them in Burmese, a 
little haltingly, it is true, but he made him- 
self understood. " My people," he said, 
" these two lords are strangers from over the 
ocean. Already the wonders I have achieved 
are known the wide world over. These lords 
are deputed by their king to bring me his 
gracious request that I go to his land and 
teach his people the new joys. For I am a 
great god, and when I come hack to this 
land of the beautiful, then in the full moon 
will 1 be wedded to Miss Sunshine here, and 
I will bring with me many of the mysteries in 
tin boxes 1 have already shown you, and many 
of the bottles of the sparkling water that 
makes even & pongee laugh," 

Sugden was laughing at that moment. 
Original from 



For Sugden knew Burmese as the natives 
knew it, and he found Halliwell^ splutterings 

"To-night," Halliwell struggled on, "when 
the sun sinks and all is dark, then will I put 
on my robe of light, and to-morrow I will 
be with the people of these two lords* But 
let us show them courtesy, the courtesy of 
Burma. Let the pwe continue," 

Sugden and Wigrnore got off their ponies 
and climbed up the steps and sat down hy 
the side of the amateur Buddha, Miss 
Sunshine was shy. 

Halliwell clapped his hands. The dancing 
re-commenced. Then the wily Madrasee 
once more crawled out from the shadow of 
the far inner temple. And he carried a bottle 
with a golden neck in each hand 


The lieutenant of the Military Police and 
the interpreter to the IXC drank long and 
slowly, and then they drew long breaths. 

" Well, Halliwell, you've been going it,'* 
said Wigrnore- 

M Have some of this pate de fois grtu" said 
the amateur Buddha. 

" You thief! " exclaimed Sugden, 

They had a merry alfresco meal. Miss 
Sunshine blushed and laughed. 

When, however, Sugden began to pay her 
compliments in Burmese, the amateur 
Buddha became jealous. 

The native musicians tootled and banged 

and sang, the girls danced and swayed their 

symmetrical figures, laughter once more 

filled the air, and the puffing of whacking big 

cheroots was greater 

than before. 

That night three 
strange figures crawled 
through the jungle. 
They all sat unsteadily 
on their ponies, and 
one figure gave off 
gusts of blue smoke 
and smelt nastily of 

Perhaps it was 
three in the morning 
when Mrs. Doug- 
las, the wife of 
the Deputy-Com- 
missioner, was 
awakened by a 
* noise outside the 

She peeped out 

"I know it— I 
— hie — know it 
better'n you. 
Itsh : — 

M Shipsh me somewhere* easht of Sue— k, 
Where a inansh can raise a — n thirsh, 

Whcrcsh there a in' t — ain. 7 i no ten commandite en— k t 
An 5 ihe Iwsh is like the wnsh." 

" Why,** said Mrs. Douglas, softly to the 
D-C, "I believe that's Mr. Halliwell down 
there. And— and I really do think he's 
drunk. He's been out in the jungle, hasn't 

"Yes," grunted the D.C, from the bed- 

The three men staggered through the 

ft< Qui hi!* they shouted. 

The Madrasee slipped out like a cat 

" IVhisky-ha and soda-foa and geldi (hurry 
up). 1 ' 

" Yes, sahibs ! " 


by Google 

Original from 

Water Polo. 

By Albert H. Broadwell. 

Fh&tas, specially iakztt by A* /♦ fohm&n. 


EVEN minutes each way, or 
fourteen minutes with three 
minutes' interval at half-time, 

w on der f u I snap- sha t s repro - 
dueed herewith — a series 
which gives an excellent idea 
of the gam£ wherever played, 
as the rules of different clubs 
do not differ materially. 

The members of the 
14 Cygnus," according to rules, 
number seven; we reproduce 
a group of the team, with Mr. 
Biggs in the centre. 

The game as a whole is not 
unlike a football match. The 
"kicking" is done with the 
fist, and speed in swim- 
ming is essential The goal- 
posts are 10ft, apart, the 
cross - bar being about 3ft 
above the water. There are 
a referee, who stands on shore 
midway between the goals, 
and two goat - scores who 
stand one at each end of the "field." In 
the picture below the players are shown in 
the act of "lining up" preparatory to a start 

tion of a water polo 
match. Short 
though the allotted 
time may seem, the 
excitement is fast 
and furious, and so 
is the swimming. 

The Cygnus 
Swimming Club of 
Tunbridge Wells, 
captained by Mr. 
W. Tyrrell Biggs, 
who also acts as 
hon. secretary, owns 
one of the finest 
open-air baths in 
the kingdom, and 
it was through the 
kindness of Mr. 
Biggs and the 
other members of 
the Cygnus team 
that we were en- 
abled to obtain the 

by Google 

Kir** vr. 

Original from 

3 i6 


Look at the picture entitled "Go/' and 
here you have one of the most important 
moves in the game. The snap-shot was 
taken a few seconds after the referee had 
thrown the ball into the centre of the 
field, shouting " Go," It shows the whole 

by obtaining the ball first It may be seen 
floating between the first and second 
man on the left-hand side of the picture. 
The following illustration shows that it 
has been reached, and is being "dribbled" 
towards the opponents' goal. 


of one side and two of the opposing side 
nearing the ball at top speed 

Who will reach it first ? The tension is 
great — for an advantage may readily be gained 

by L^OOgle 

In "Nearing the Goal" the head of the ever- 
watchful goal-keeper can be seen, photo- 
graphed as it was bobbing up and down like 
a cork between the goal-posts. Will a 
Original from 





dexterous blow send the ball flying through 
his posts, or will he be able to parry in time ? 
The next picture shows that he need not fear ; 
the ball is being "dribbled' 1 over to the other 
side, and then has reached the opposing goal, 
where the fight is of a most exciting nature. 
The goal-keeper is well out of the water ; he 

cannot afford to; 
lose sight of the 
ball for a moment ; 
a hit — whizz— and 
up goes the ball — 
bang — and it Is 
parried with won- 
derful accuracy 
right over the 
heads of the com- 
batants towards 
the middle of the 
.* field"; there it 
is caught again 
and brought back ; 
whizz again and, 
hurrah ! the parry 
comes too late ; 
the goal - keeper's 
arm has failed 
him, it falls back 
as though ashamed of itself, and a goal 
is scored. 

We would call special attention to this 
particular illustration : the ball can be seen 
actually flying through the goal-posts — a 
piece of snap shotting which does consider- 
able credit to the man with the camera. 

by Google 




It may not be uninteresting to quote here 
onu or two of the more important rules of 
the game. For 
instance, as re- 
gards starting, 
we note that 
very specified 
arrangements are 
forthcom i ng, 
namely :. " The 
players shall 
enter the water 
and place them- 
selves in a line 
with their re- 
spective goals. 
The referee shall 
stand in a line 
with the centre 
of the course, 
and having 
ascertained that the captains are ready, 
shall give the word 'go/ and immediately 
throw the ball into the water at the 
centre. A goal shall not be scored after 
starting or re-starting until a ball has 
been handled by an opposing player or 
by a player on the same side, who shall 
be within half distance of the goal at- 


been scored, the time from the scoring of 
the goal to the re-starting of the game, or 

time occupied 
by disputes or 
fouls, shall not 
be reckoned as 
in the time of 
play," which ex- 
cellent provision 
therefore insures 
a full fourteen 
minutes' play. 

Now let us 
return to the 
match : — 

says the referee's 
whistle. Our 
heroes may 
rest for three 
minutes if they 
choose'; they are eager for a fresh start, how- 
ever, and we witness some exciting scrimmages, 
Look at the three pretty snap-shots taken 
whilst the fight for the coveted possession of 
the ball was strongest. It is almost im- 
possible to follow the bobbing thing as it is 
submerged, caught, snatched away, and sub- 
merged again. But the camera's eye is 

quicker than the 
spectator's; it gives 
undeniable proof 
of excitement and 
hard work. 

The illustration 
on the next page 
shows a splendid 
14 pass w from one 
player to another of 
his own side in the 
distance- Here 

tacked ; the ball 

must be handled 

by more than 

one player before 

a goal can be 

scored." As wi 

be perceived 

from the above, 

the rules in water 

polo are as stringent as those in football 

or cricket. Furthermore, "when a goal has 



again the ball is caught by the camera 
in mid-air not more than a second after it 
Original from 




had left the fist which has sent it on its 
errand of victory. 

It may here be added that the ball is an 
ordinary " Association " ball. The rule 
says: "The ball should be waterproof, with 

are the boundary posts ; they are used to 
mark the half-way line and ako the penalty 
lines on the sides of the field, 

t( Should a player send the ball out of the 
field of play at either side, it shall be thrown 

no strapped seams outside, and no grease or 
other objectionable substance on the sur- 
face " ; while another interesting rule says : 
"In baths, no grease, oil, or other objec- 
tionable substance shall be rubbed on the 
In the picture entitled "A Long Throw 

in any direction from where it went out 
by one of the opposing side, and shah be 
considered a free throw/' says the "Out 
of Play" rule, and there is no doubt 
that this provision is a very useful one ; 
the field of play being necessarily some- 
what limited, the case of the ball getting 

'A LoNLr Til K my KkuM A sCklMMAGE, 

from a Scrimmage " the right arm of the 
player in the centre may be distinctly seen 
fully stretched out after the blow* The posts, 
which are shown standing out of the water, 

Digitized by Google 

outside the proper boundaries becomes a 
somewhat frequent occurrence. 

The illustration on the next page, justly 
entitled " A Grand Throw," gives an excellent 
Original from 





idea of the whole bath, and, consequently, of 
the " field of play " also. The throw, which is a 
magnificent one, was, however, of no avail 
In the photograph the ball is shown in mid- 
air in the act of passing over the goal-posts 
of the opposing side, and as the rule says that 
"a goal shall be scored by the entire ball 
passing heyond the goalposts and under 
the cross - bar," • 
this pretty piece 
of work is use- 
less, save for the 
wild enthusiasm 
and applause of 
the excited spec- 

We now come 
to an amusing 
little picture 
which illustrates 
a "four The 

and good humour of the combatants were 
shown repeatedly throughout the match. 
We cannot say that we have ever seen the 
slightest inclination to roughness or ill-feeling, 
though the little episode shown here is not of 
the mildest kind imaginable* There are really 
two players at work here, but, alas ! one of them 
has to be kepi out of harm's way until the ball 

is rescued by a 
third man, com- 
ing on at full 
speed, but not 
shown in the pic- 
ture* The success- 
ful party seems 
highly amused at 
his exploit ; a 
happy smile indi- 
cates his feelings. 
Does the other 
man smile too? 
We doubt it. 

" I UL"L ! 

by Google 

Original from 

Hilda fVade. 

By Grant Allen. 

ILDA took me back with her 
to the embryo farm where she 
had pitched her tent for the 
moment : a rough, wild place : 
it lay close to the main road 
from Salisbury to Chimoio* 
Setting aside the inevitable rawness and 
newness of all things Rhodesmn, however, 
the situation itself was not wholly un- 
pieturesque. A ramping rock or tor of 
granite, which I should judge at a rough 
guess to extend to an acre in size, sprang 
abruptly from the brown grass of the upland 
plain. It rose like a huge boulder. Its 
summit was crowned by the covered grave of 
some old Kaffir chief — a rude cairn of big 
stones under a thatched awning. At the 
foot of this jagged and cleft rock the farm- 
house nestled — four square walls of 
wattle-and-daub, sheltered by its mass 
from the sweeping winds or the South 
African plateau. A stream brought 
water from a spring close by : in front 
of the house — rare sight in that thirsty 
land — spread a garden of flowers. It 
was an oasis in the desert. But the 
desert itself stretched grimly all round : 
I could never quite decide how far 
the oasis was caused by the water from 
the spring, and how far by Hilda's 

"Then you live here?" I cried, 
gazing round — my voice, I suppose, 
betraying my latent sense of the un 

promised best. . . . But nowadays, really, 
one is never safe from intrusion anywhere." 

" You are cruel, Hilda ! " 

"Oh, no. You deserve it I asked you 
not to come— and you came in spite of 
me, I have treated you very nicely under 
the circumstances, I think. I have behaved 
like an angel The question is now, what 
ought I to do next ? You have upset my 
plans so." 

" Upset your plans ? How ? M 

" Dear Hubert " — she turned to me with 
an indulgent smile—" for a clever man, you 
are really too foolish ! Can't you see that 
you have betrayed my whereabouts to 
Sebastian ? / crept away secretly, like a 
thief in the night, giving no name or place ; 
and, having the world to ransack, h^ might 

round — my voice, 
my latent sense 
worthiness of the position. 

" For the present," Hilda answered, 
smiling. "You know, Hubert, I have no 
abiding city anywhere, till my Purpose is 
fulfilled. I came here because Rhodesia 
seemed the furthest spot of earth where 
a white woman just now could safely 
penetrate — in order to get away from 
you and Sebastian." 

"That is an unkind conjunction!" 
I exclaimed, reddening. 

"But I mean it/' she answered, with 
a wayward little nod, " I wanted 
breathing-space to form fresh plans. I 
wanted to get clear away for a time 
from all who knew me. And this 

Vol, xviii 

by Google 


Original from 



have found it hard to track me \ for he had 
not your clue of the Basingstoke letter — nor 
your reason for seeking me. But now that 
you have followed me openly, with your 
name blazoned forth in the company's 
passenger-lists, and your traces left plain in 
hotels and stages across the map of South 
Africa — why, the spoor is easy. If Sebastian 
cares to find us, he can follow the scent all 
through without trouble." 

" I never thought of that ! " I cried, 

She was forbearance itself. " No, I knew 
you would never think of it. You are a man, 
you see. I counted that in. I was afraid 
from the first you would wreck all by follow- 
ing me." 

I was mutely penitent. "And yet, you 
forgive me, Hilda ! " 

Her eyes beamed tenderness. " To know 
all, is to forgive all," she answered. " I have 
to remind you of that so often ! How can 
I help forgiving, when I know why you came 
— what spur it was that drove you ? But it 
is the future we have to think of now, not 
the past. And I must wait and reflect. I 
have no plan just at present." 

" What are you doing at this farm ? " I 
gazed round at it, dissatisfied. 

" I board here," Hilda answered, amused 
at my crestfallen face. " But, of course, I 
cannot, be idle ; so I have found work to do. 
I ride out on my bicycle to two or three 
isolated houses about, and give lessons to 
children in this desolate place, who would 
otherwise grow up ignorant. It fills my time, 
and supplies me with something besides 
myself to think about." 

"And what am /to do?" I cried, 
oppressed with a sudden sense of helpless- 

She laughed at me outright. "And is 
this the first moment that that difficulty has 
occurred to you ? %y she asked, gaily. " You 
have hurried all the way from London to 
Rhodesia without the slightest idea of what 
you mean to do now you have got there ? " 

I laughed at myself in turn. " Upon my 
word, Hilda," I cried, " I set out to find you. 
Beyond the desire to find you, I had no plan 
in my head. That was an end in itself. My 
thoughts went no further." 

She gazed at me half saucily. "Then 
don't you think, sir, the best thing you can 
do, now you have found me, is — to turn back 
and go home again ? ** 

" I am a man, n I said, promptly, taking a 
firm stand. " And you are a judge of 
character. If you really mean to tell me you 

think that likely — well, I shall have a lower 
opinion of your insight into men than I have 
been accustomed to harbour." 

Her smile was not wholly without a touch 
of triumph. 

" In that case," she went on, " I suppose 
the only alternative is for you to remain 

" That would appear to be logic," I replied. 
" But what can I do ? Set up in practice ? " 

" I don't see much opening," she answered. 
" If you ask my advice, I should say there is 
only one thing to be done in Rhodesia just 
now — turn farmer." 

" It is done," I answered, with my usual 
impetuosity. " Since you say the word, I am 
a farmer already. I feel an interest in oats 
that is simply absorbing. What steps ought 
I to take first in my present condition ? " 

She looked at me, all brown with the dust- 
of my long ride. "I would suggest," she 
said, slowly, " a good wash, and some 

" Hilda," I cried, surveying my boots, or 
what was visible of them, " that is really 
clever of you. A wash and some dinner ! 
So practical, so timely ! The very thing ! 
I will see to it." 

Before night fell I had arranged every- 
thing. I was to buy the next farm from the 
owner of the one where Hilda lodged : I was 
also to learn the rudiments of South African 
agriculture from him for a valuable considera- 
tion : and I was to lodge in his house while 
my own was building. He gave me his views 
on the cultivation of oats. He gave them at 
some length — more length than perspicuity. 
I knew nothing about oats, save that they 
were employed in the manufacture of porridge 
— which I detest : but I was to be near 
Hilda once more, and I was prepared to 
undertake the superintendence of the oat 
from its birth to its reaping, if only I might 
be allowed to live so close to Hilda. 

The farmer and his wife were Boers, but 
they spoke English. Mr. Jan Willem Klaas 
himself was a fine specimen of the breed — 
tall, erect, broad-shouldered, and genial. 
Mrs. Klaas, his wife, was mainly suggestive, 
in mind and person, of suet-pudding. There 
was one prattling little girl of three years old, 
by name Sannie, a most engaging child ; and 
also a chubby baby. 

" You are betrothed, of course ? " Mrs. 
Klaas said to Hilda before me, with the 
curious tactlessness of her race, when we 
made our first arrangement 

Hilda's face flushed. "No; we are 
nothing to one another," she answered — 

by Google 

I Q I I I _' I 1 1 




which was only true formally, " Dr. Cum- 
berledge had a post at the same hospital in 
London where I was a nurse ; and he thought 
he would like to try Rhodesia. That is all/' 


Mrs, KJaas gazed from one to other of us 
suspiciously. "You English are strange!" 
she answered, with a complacent little shrug, 
"But there-from Europe! Your ways, we 
know, are different/' 

Hilda did not attempt to explain. It 
would have been impossible to make the 
good soul understand. Her horizon was so 
simple* She w^as a harmless housewife, given 
mostly to dyspepsia and the care of her 
little ones. Hilda had w r on her heart by 
unfeigned admiration for the chubby baby. 
To a mother that covers a multitude of 
eccentricities, such as one expects to find in 
incomprehensible English, Mrs. Klaas put 
up with me because she liked Hilda, 

We spent some months together on Klaas's 
farm. It was a dreary place, save for Hilda. 
The bare daub-and-wattle walls ; the clumps 
of misshapen and dusty prickly-pears that 
girt round the thatched huts of the Kaffir 
workpeople ; the stone-penned sheep-kraals 
and the corrugated iron roof of the bald 
stable for the waggon-oxen — all was as crude 
and ugly as a new country can make things. 
It seemed to me a desecration that Hilda 
should live in such an unfinished land — 
Hilda whom I imagined as moving by 

by V_ 



nature through broad English parks, with 
Elizabethan cottages and immemorial oaks - 
Hilda whose proper atmosphere seemed to 
be one of coffee -coloured laces, ivy -clad 
abbeys, lichen - incrusted walls, all that is 
beautiful and gracious in time - honoured 

Nevertheless, we lived 
on there in a meaningless 
sort of way — I hardly 
knew why. To me it was 
a puzzle. When I asked 
Hilda, she shook tier head 
with her sibylline air and 
answered, confidently, 
11 You do not understand 
Sebastian as well as I do. 
We have to wait for him. 
The next move is his. Till 
he plays his piece, 1 cannot 
tell how I may have to 
checkmate him," 

So we waited for Sebas- 
tian to advance a pawn. 
Meanwhile, I toyed with 
South African farming — 
not very successfully, I 
must admit Nature did 
not design me for growing 
oats. I am no judge of 
oxen f and my views on 
the feeding of Kaffir sheep raised broad 
smiles on the black faces of my Mashona 

I still lodged at Tant Met tie's, as every- 
body called Mrs, Klaas; she was courtesy 
aunt to the community at large, while Oom 
Jan Will em was its courtesy uncle, They 
were simple homely folk, who lived up to 
their religious principles on an unvaried diet 
of stewed ox-beef and bread : they suffered 
much from chronic dyspepsia, due in part at 
least, no doubt, to the monotony of their 
food, their life, their interests. One could 
hardly believe one was still in the nineteenth 
century: these people had the calm, the 
local seclusion of the prehistoric epoch. 
For them, Europe did not exist : they knew 
it merely as a place where settlers came from. 
What the Czar intended, what the Kaiser 
designed, never disturbed their rest. A sick 
ox, a rattling tile on the roof, meant more to 
their lives than war in Europe. The one 
break in the sameness of their daily routine 
was family prayers : the one weukly event, 
going to church at Salisbury. Still, they had 
a single enthusiasm. Like everybody else 
for fifty miles around, they believed profoundly 
in " the future of Rhodesia, 1 ' When I gazed 


3 2 4 


about me at the raw new land — the weary 
flat of red soil and brown grasses — I felt at 
least that, with a present like that, it had need 
of a future. 

I am not by disposition a pioneer: I 

thern to me, please, when Tant Mettie isn't 
looking," His nod was all mystery. 

"You may rely on my discretion," I re- 
plied, throwing the time-honoured prejudices 
of the profession to the winds, and well 



belong instinctively to the old civilizations. 
In the midst of rudimentary towns and 
incipient fields, I yearn for grey houses, a 
Norman church, an English thatched cottage. 

However, for Hilda's sake I braved it out, 
and continued to learn the A B C of agricul- 
ture on an unmade farm with great assiduity 
from Oom Jan Willem, 

We had been stopping some months at 
Klaas's together when business compelled 
me one day to ride into Salisbury. I had 
ordered some goods for my farm from 
England, which had at last arrived. I had 
now to arrange for their conveyance from 
the town to my plot of land — a portentous 
matter* Just as I was on the point of 
leaving Klaas's, and was tightening the saddle- 
girth on my sturdy little pony, Oom Jan 
Willem himself sidled up to me with a 
mysterious air, his broad face all wrinkled 
with anticipatory pleasure. He placed a 
sixpence in my palm, glancing about him 
on every side as he did so, like a con- 

"What am I to buy with it?" I asked, 
much puzzled, and suspecting tobacco. 
Tant Mettie declared he smoked too much 
for a church elder. 

He put his finger to his lips, nodded, and 
peered round. "Lollipops for Sannie," he 
whispered low, at last, with a guilty smile^ 
" But" — he glanced about him again — " give 

Digitized by GoOQie 

pleased to aid and abet the simple-minded 
soul in his nefarious designs against little 
Sannie's digestive apparatus. 

He patted me on the back, " Peppermint 
lollipops, mind ! " he went on in the same 
solemn undertone. " Sannie likes them best 

I put my foot in the stirrup, and vaulted 
into my saddle, u They shall not be for- 
gotten," I answered, with a quiet smile at 
this pretty little evidence of fatherly feeling. 

I rode off It was early morning, before 
the heat of the day began, Hilda accom- 
panied me part of the way on her bicycle. 
She was going to the other young farm, some 
eight miles off, across the red -brown plateau, 
where she gave lessons daily to the ten-year- 
old daughter of an English settler. It was a 
labour of love, for settlers in Rhodesia 
cannot afford to pay for what are beautifully 
described as "finishing governesses"; but 
Hilda was of the sort who cannot eat the 
bread of idleness. She had to justify herself 
to her kind by finding some work to do 
which should vindicate her existence. 

I parted from her at a point on the 
monotonous plain where one rubbly road 
branched off from another. Then I jogged 
on in the full morning sun over that scorch- 
ing plain of loose red sand all the way to 
Salisbury. Not a green leaf or a fresh flower 
anywhere. The eye ached at the hot glare 




of the reflected sunlight from the sandy 

My business detained me most of the day 
in the half- built town, with its flaunting 
stores and its rough new offices ; it was not 
till towards afternoon that I could get away 
again on my sorrel, across the blazing plain 
once more to Klaas's. 

I moved on over the plateau at an easy 
trot, full of thoughts of Hilda, What could 
be the step she expected Sebastian to take 
next ? She did not know, herself, she had 
told me : there, her faculty failed her. But 
some step he would take : and till he took it, 
she must rest and be watchful 

I passed the great tree that stands up like 
an obelisk in the midst of the plain beyond 
the deserted Matabele village. I passed the 
low* clumps of dry karroo-bushes by the 
rocky kopje, I passed the turning of the 
rubbly road^ where I had parted from Hilda, 
At last I reached the long, rolling ridge 
which looks down upon Klaas % and could 
see in the slant sunlight the mud farmhouse 
and the corrugated iron roof where the oxen 
were stabled. 

The place looked more deserted, more 
dead-alive than ever. Not a black boy 
moved in it. Even the cattle and Kaffir 
sheep were nowhere to be seen, . , . But, 
then, it w*as always quiet : and perhaps I 
noticed the obtrusive air of solitude and 
sleepiness even more 
than usual, because 
I hud just returned 
from Salisbury. All 
things are com para • 
tive. After the lost 
loneliness of Klaas's 
farm, even brand-new 
Salisbury seemed 
busy and bustling. 

I hurried on, ill at 
ease, But Taut 
Met tie would, doubt- 
less, have a cup of 
tea ready for me 
as soon as I arrived, 
and Hilda would be 
waiting at the gate 
to welcome me. 

I reached the 
stone inclosure and 
passed up through 
the flower-garden. 
To my great sur- 
prise, Hilda was 
not there. As a 
rule, she came to 

meet me with her sunny smile. But perhaps 
she was tired, or the sun on the road 
might have given her a headache. I dis- 
mounted from my mare, and called one of 
the Kaffir boys to take her to the stable. 
Nobody answered. ... I called again. Still 
silence. , . . I tied her up to the post, and 
strode over to the door, astonished at the 
solitude. I began to feel there was some- 
thing weird and uncanny about this home- 
coming. Never before had I known Klaas's 
so entirely deserted. 

I lifted the latch and opened the door. 
It gave access at once to the single plain 
living-room. There, all was huddled For 
a moment my eyes hardly took in the truth, 
There are sights so sickening that the brain 
at the first shock wholly fails to realise them. 
On the stone slab floor of the low living- 
room Taut Mettie lay dead. Her body was 
pierced through by innumerable thrusts, 
which I somehow instinctively recognised as 
assegai wounds. By her side lay Sannie, the 
little prattling girl of three, my constant play- 
mate, whom I had instructed in cats cradle 
and taught the tales of Cinderella and Red 
Riding Hood. My hand grasped the lolli- 
pops in my pocket convulsively. She would 
never need them. Nobody else was about. 
What had become of Oom Jan Willem— and 
the baby? 

I wandered out into the yard, sick with 
the sight I had already seen. 
There Oom Jan Willem him- 
self lay stretched at full 
ength i a 
bullet had 
pierced his 
left temple: 
his body was 
also riddled 
through with 


JAN WILLEM LAY STRETCH-^a .AT-*U|J^ | t|.*i.N<iTII. ,i 


3 26 


I saw at once what this meant A rising 
of the Matabele ! 

I had come back from Salisbury, unknow- 
ing it, into the midst of a revolt of blood- 
thirsty savages. 

Vet, even if I had known, I must still 
have hurried home with all speed to Klaas's 
— to protect Hilda. 

Hilda? Where was Hilda? A breathless 
sinking crept over me. 

I staggered out into the 
open. It was impossible to 
say what horror might not 
have happened. The Mata- 
bele might even now be 
lurking about the kraal 
— for the bodies were 
hardly cold. But 
Hilda? Hilda? What- 
ever came, I must 
find Hilda, 

Fortunately, I had 
my loaded revolver 
in my belt. Though 
we had not in the 
least anticipated this 
sudden revolt — it 
broke like a 
thunder-clap from 
a clear sky— the 
unsettled state of 
the country made 
even women go , 
armed about their 
daily avocations. 

I strode on, 
half maddened. 
Beside the great 
block of granite 
which sheltered 
the farm there 
rose one of those 
rocky little hil- 
locks of loose 
boulders which 
are locally known 
in South Africa bv 
the Dutch name 

of kopjes. I 
looked out upon it drearily, Its round brown 
ironstones lay piled irregularly together, 
almost as if placed there in some earlier 
age by the mighty hands of prehistoric giants. 
My gaze on it was blank. I was thinking, 
not of it but of Hilda, Hilda. 

I called the name aloud : " Hilda ! Hilda! 
Hilda ! " 

As I called, to my immense surprise, one 
of the smooth round boulders on the hillside 

Digitized by GoOfllc 


seemed slowly to uncurl, and to peer about 
it cautiously. Then it raised itself in the 
slant sunlight, put a hand to its eyes, and 
gazed out upon me with a human face for a 
moment. After that it descended, step by 
step, among the other stones, with a white 
object in its arms. As the boulder uncurled 
and came to life, I was aware, by degrees 
, . , , yes, yes, it was Hilda, with Tant 

Mettle's baby ! 

In the fierce 
joy of that dis- 
covery I rushed 
forward to her, 
trembling, and 
clasped her in my 
arms. I could 
find no words but 
"Hilda! Hilda!" 
"Are they 
gone ? " she asked, 
staring about her 
with a terrified 
air, though still 
strangely preserv- 
ing her wonted 
composure of 

u Who gone ? 
The Matabele?" 
" Yes, yes ! " 
" Did you see 
them, Hilda ? " 

"For a mo- 
ment — with black 
shields and asse- 
gais, all shouting 
madly* You have 
been to the house, 
Hubert? You 
know what has 
happened ? " 

" Yes, yes, I 
know — a rising. 
They have massa- 
cred the Klaases." 
She nodded, 
61 I came back 
on my bicycle, 
and, when I opened the door, found Tant 
Mettie and little Sannie dead. Poor, 
sweet little Sannie ! Oom Jan was lying 
shot in the yard outside. I saw the cradle 
overturned, and looked under it for the baby. 
They did nor kill her — perhaps did not 
notice her. 1 caught her up in my arms, 
and rushed out to my machine, thinking to 
make for Salisbury and give the alarm to the 
men there. One must try to save others — 
Original from 




passed just 
on towards 
lay still for 

and you were coming, Hubert ! Then I 
heard horses' hoofs — the Matabele returning. 
They dashed back* mounted —stolen horses 
from other farms — they have taken poor Oom 
Jan's — and they have gone on, shouting, to 
murder elsewhere ! I flung down my 
machine among the bushes as they came— I 
hope they have not seen it : and I crouched 
here between the boulders, with the baby in 
my arms, trusting for protection to the 
colour of my dress, which is just like the 

"It is a perfect deception," I answered, 
admiring her instinctive cleverness even then. 
" I never so much as noticed 

"No, nor the Matabele 
either, for all their sharp eyes. 
They passed by without stop- 
ping, I clasped the baby hard, 
and tried to keep it from crying 
— if it had cried, all would 
have been lost: but they 
below, and swept 
Rozenboom'-s, I 
a while, not 
daring to look out : then 
I raised myself warily and 
tried to listen. Just at 
that moment, I heard 
a horse's hoofs ring 
out once more. I 
couldn't tell, of 
course, whether -it was 
yon returning, or one 
of the Matabele, left 
behind by the others. 
So I crouched again. 
, . * Thank God, you 
are safe, Hubert ! " 

All this took a 
moment to say, or 
was less said than 

hinted. "Now, what must we do?" 1 cried 
m Bolt back again to Salisbury ? >5 

"It is the only thing possible — if my 
machine is unhurt. . They may have taken 
it , , . or ridden over and broken it/' 

We went down to the spot, and picked it 
up where it lay, half-concealed among the 
brittle, dry scrub of milk-bushes, I examined 
the bearings carefully ; though there were 
hoof-marks close by, it had received no hurt, 
I blew up the tyre, which was somewhat 
flabby, and went on to untie my sturdy pony. 
The moment I looked at her, I saw the poor 
little brute was wearied out with her two 
long rides in the sweltering sun. Her flanks 
quivered. "It is no use," I cried, patting 
her, as she turned to me with appealing eyes 

that asked for water. " She mtft go back as 
far as Salisbury, at least till she has had a 
feed of corn and a drink. Even then, it will 
be rough on her. 1 ' 

" Give her bread ! " Hilda suggested, 
M That will hearten her more than corn. 
There is plenty in the house : Tant Mettie 
baked this morning." 

I crept in reluctantly to fetch it. I also 
brought out from the dresser a few raw eggs, 
to break into a tumbler and swallow whole : 
for Hilda and I needed food almost as sorely 
as the poor beast herself. There was some- 
thing gruesome in thus rummaging about for 
bread and meat in the dead woman's cup- 

i." ? 



by LiOOglC 

board, while she herself lay there on the 
floor : but one never realizes how one will 
act in these great emergencies until they 
come upon one. Hilda, still calm with un- 
earthly calmness , took a couple of loaves 
from my hand and began feeding the pony 
with them, "Go and draw water for her," 
she said, simply, "while I give her the 
bread : that will save time : every minute is 

I did as I was bid, not knowing each 
moment but that the insurgents would 
return. When I came back from the spring 
with the bucket, the mare had demolished 
the whole two loaves, and was going on 
upon some grass which Hilda had plucked 

for her. 

Original from 


3 28 


11 She hasn't had enough, poor dear," 
Hilda said, patting her neck, "A couple of 
loaves are penny buns to her appetite. Let 
her drink the water, while I go in and fetch 
out the rest of the baking." 

I hesitated. "You catii go in there again, 
Hilda ! " I cried. li Wait and let me do it." 

Her white face was resolute. " Yes, I 
cart" she answered, "It is a work of neces- 
sity : and in works of necessity a woman, I 
think, should flinch at nothing. Have I not 
seen already every varied aspect of death at 
Nathaniel's ? " And in she went, undaunted, 
to that chamber of horrors, still 
clasping the baby. 

The pony made short 
the remaining loaves, 
which she devoured 
with great zest. As 
Hilda had predicted, 
they seemed to hearten 
her. The food and 
drink, with a bucket of 
water dashed on her 
hoofs, gave her new 
vigour like wine. We 
gulped down our eggs 
in silence. Then I 
held Hilda's bicycle. 
She vaulted lightly on 
to the seat, white and 
tired as she was, with 

All round, by this time, the horizon was 
dim with clouds of black smoke which went 
up from burning farms and plundered 
homesteads. The smoke did not rise high : 
it hung sullenly over the hot plain in 
long smouldering masses, like the smoke of 
steamers on foggy days in England. The 
sun was nearing the horizon : his slant red 
rays lighted up the red plain, the red sand, 


and her right 
on the handle- 

trust her to you." 
is my place to take 

the baby in her left 




* ( I must take the 
baby/' I said. 

She shook her head, 

" Uh, no. I will not 

" Hilda, I insist/' 

" And 1 insist too. It 
her/ 1 

" But can you ride so?" I asked, anxiously. 

She began to pedal *' Oh, dear, yes. It 
is quite, quite easy. I shall get there all 
right — if the Matabele don't burst upon us." 

Tired as I was with my long day's w r ork, I 
jumped into my saddle, I saw I should 
only lose time if I disputed about the baby, 
My little horse seemed to understand that 
something grave had occurred, for, weary as 
she must have been, she set out with a will 
once more over that great red level. Hilda 
pedalled bravely by my side. The road was 
bumpy, but she was well accustomed to it. 
I could have ridden faster than she went, for 
the baby weighted her. Still, we rode for 
dear life It was a grim experience. 


by Google 

the brown-red grasses, with a murky, spectral 
glow of crimson. After those red pools of 
blood, this universal burst of redness appalled 
one. It seemed as though all nature had 
conspired in one unholy league with the 
Matabele. We rode on without a word. 
The red sky grew redder. 

"They may have sacked Salisbury!" I 
exclaimed at last, looking out towards the 
brand-new town. 

" I doubt it," Hilda answered. Her very 
doubt reassured me. 

We began to mount a long slope. Hilda 
pedalled with difficulty. Not a sound was 
heard save the light fall of my pony's feet on 
the soft new road, and the shrill cry of the 
cicalas, Then, suddenly, we started. What 
was that noise in our rear ? Once^ twice, it 
rang out. The loud ping of a rifle ! 

Looking behind us, we saw eight or ten 
Original from 




mounted Matabele ! Stalwart warriors they 
were — half naked, and riding stolen horses. 
They were coming our way ! They had seen 
us ! They were pursuing us ! 

" Put on all speed ! " I cried, in my agony. 
" Hilda, can you manage it ? " 

She pedalled with a will. But as we 
mounted the slope, I saw they were gaining 
upon us. A few hundred yards were all our 
start. They had the descent of the opposite 
hill as yet in their favour. 

One man, astride on a better horse than 
the rest, galloped on in front and came 
within range of us. He had a rifle in his 
hand. He pointed it twice, and covered us. 
But he did not shoot. Hilda gave a cry of 
relief. " Don't you see ? " she exclaimed. 
" It is Oom Jan Willem's rifle ! That was 
their last cartridge. They have no more 

I saw she was probably right : for Klaas 
was out of cartridges, and was waiting for my 
new stock to arrive from England. If that 
were correct, they must get near enough to 
attack us with assegais. They are more 
dangerous so. I remembered what an old 
Boer had said to me at Bulawayo : " The 
Zulu with his assegai is an enemy to be 
feared : with a gun, he is a bungler." 

We pounded on up the hill. It was deadly 
work with those brutes at our heels. The 
child on Hilda's arm was visibly wearying 
her. It kept on whining. " Hilda," I cried, 
" that baby will lose your life ! You cannot 
go on carrying it." 

She turned to me with a flash of her eyes. 
" What ! you are a man," she broke out, " and 
you ask a woman to save her life by abandon- 
ing a baby ! Hubert, you shame me ! " 

I felt she was right. If she had been 
capable of giving it up, she would not have 
been Hilda. There was but one other way 

" Then you must take the pony," I called 
out, " and let me have the bicycle ! " 

"You couldn't ride it," she called back. 
" It is a woman's machine, remember." 

" Yes, I could," I replied, without slowing. 
" It is not much too short : and I can bend 
my knees a bit. Quick, quick ! No words ! 
Do as I tell you ! " 

She hesitated a second. The child's 
weight distressed her. "We should lose 
time in changing," she answered at last, 
doubtful but still pedalling, though my hand 
was on the rein, ready to pull up the pony. 

" Not if we manage it right. Obey orders ! 
The moment I say ' Halt,' I shall slacken 
my mare's pace. When you see me leave the 


Vol. xviii —42. 

saddle, jump off instantly, jou, and mount 
her ! I will catch the machine before it falls. 
Are you ready ? Halt, then ! " 

She obeyed the word without one second's 
delay. I slipped off, held the bridle, caught 
the bicycle, and led it instantaneously. Then 
I ran beside the pony— bridle in one hand, 
machine in the other — till Hilda had sprung 
with a light bound into the stirrup. At that, 
a little leap, and I mounted the bicycle. It 
was all done nimbly in less time than the 
telling takes, for we are both of us naturally 
quick in our movements. Hilda rode like a 
man, astride — her short bicycling skirt, 
unobtrusively divided in front and at the 
back, made this easily possible. Looking 
behind me with a hasty glance, I could see 
that the savages, taken aback, had reined in 
to deliberate at our unwonted evolution. I 
feel sure that the novelty of the iron horse, 
with a woman riding it, played not a little on 
their superstitious fears ; they suspected, no 
doubt, this was some ingenious new engine 
of war devised against them by the un- 
accountable white man : it might go off un- 
expectedly in their faces at any moment. 
Most of them, I observed as they halted, 
carried on their backs black ox-hide shields, 
interlaced with white thongs ; they were 
armed with two or three assegais apiece and 
a knobkerry. 

Instead of losing time by the change, as it 
turned out, we had actually gained it. Hilda 
was able to put on my sorrel to her full pace, 
which I had not dared to do, for fear of out- 
running my companion ; the wise little beast, 
for her part, seemed to rise to the occasion, 
and to understand that we were pursued, for 
she stepped out bravely. On the other hand, 
in spite of the low seat and the short crank 
of a woman's machine, I could pedal up the 
slope with more force than Hilda, for I am a 
practised hill-climber : so that in both ways 
we gained, besides having momentarily 
disconcerted and checked the enemy. Their 
ponies were tired, and they rode them full 
tilt with savage recklessness, making them 
canter up-hill, and so needlessly fatiguing 
them. The Matabele, indeed, are unused to 
horses, and manage them but ill. It is as 
foot soldiers, creeping stealthily through bush 
or long grass, that they are really formidable. 
Only one of their mounts was tolerably fresh: 
the one which had once already almost over- 
taken us. As we neared the top of the slope, 
Hilda, glancing behind her, exclaimed, with 
a sudden thrill, "He is spurting again, 
Hubert ! " 

I drew my revolver and held it in my right 




hand, using my left for steering, I did not 
look back : time was far too precious. I set 
my teeth hard " Tell me when he draws 
near enough for a shot/ 7 I said, quietly. 

Hilda only nodded. Being mounted on 
the mare, she could see behind her more 
steadily now than I could from the machine. 

spurred by necessity, T somehow did it. I 
fired three shots in quick succession My first 
bullet missed : my second knocked the man 
over : my third grazed the horse. With a 
ringing shriek, the Matabele fell in the road, 
a black writhing mass ; his horse, terrified, 
dashed back with maddened snorts into the 

Aril/ r * 


and her eye was trustworthy. As for the 
baby, rocked by the heave and fall of the 
pony's withers, it had fallen asleep placidly 
in the very midst of this terror ! 

After a second I asked once more) with 
bated breath, " Is he gaining? " 

She looked back, "Yes: gaining." 

A pause. " And now ? J1 

"SHU gaining, He is poising an assegai." 

Ten seconds more passed in breathless 
suspense* The thud of their horses 9 hoofs 
alone told me their nearness. My finger 
was on the trigger. I awaited the word. 
" Fire ! " she said at last, in a calm, unflinch- 
ing voice, " He is well within distance/ 5 

I turned half round and levelled as true 
as I could at the advancing black man. He 
rode nearly naked, showing all his teeth 
and brandishing his assegai ; the long white 
feathers stuck upright in his hair gave him a 
wild and terrifying barbaric aspect. It was 
difficult to preserve one's balance, keep the 
way on, and shoot, all at the same time ; but 


midst of the others. Its plunging discon- 
certed the whole party for a minute. 

We did not wait to see the rest Taking 
advantage of this momentary diversion in our 
favour, we rode on at full speed to the top of 
the slope- -I never knew before how hard I 
could pedal— and began to descend at a 
dash into the opposite hollow. 

The sun had set by this time. There is 
no twilight in those latitudes* It grew dark 
at once, We could see now in the plain all 
round, where black clouds of smoke had 
rolled before, one lurid red glare of burning 
houses, mixed with a sullen twe of tawny 
light from the columns of prairie fire kindled 
by the insurgents. 

We made our way still onward across the 
open plain without one word towards Salis- 
bury. The mare was giving out. She strode 
with a will : but her flanks were white with 
froth : her breath came short : foam flew 
from her nostrils. 

As we njg|m1j^|t^g,flext ridge, still dis 




tancing our pursuers, I saw suddenly, on its 
crest, defined against the livid red sky like a 
silhouette, two more mounted black men ! 

" It's all up, Hilda ! " I cried, losing heart 
at last. " They are on both sides of us now ! 
The mare is spent : we are surrounded ! " 

She drew rein and gazed at them. For a 
moment suspense spoke in all her attitude. 
Then she burst into a sudden deep sigh of 
relief. "No, no," she cried; "these are 
friendlies ! " 

" How do you know ? " I gasped. But I 
believed her. 

"They are looking out this way, with 
hands shading their eyes against the red 
glare. They are looking away from Salisbury, 
in the direction of the attack. They are 
expecting the enemy. They must be friend- 
lies ! — See, see ! they have caught sight of 

As she spoke, one of the men lifted his 
rifle and half pointed it. " Don't shoot ! 
don't shoot ! " I shrieked aloud. " We are 
English ! English ! " 

The men let their rifles drop and rode 
down towards us. " Who are you ? " I cried. 

They saluted us, military fashion. " Mata- 
bele police, sah," the leader answered, 
recognising me. "You are flying from 
Klaas's ? " 

" Yes," I answered. " They have murdered 
Klaas, with his wife and child. Some of 
them are now following us." 

The spokesman was a well-educated Cape 
Town negro. " All right, sah," he answered. 
" I have forty men here right behind de 
kopje. Let dem come ! We can give a 
good account of dem. Ride on straight wit 
de lady to Salisbury ! " 

" The Salisbury people know of this rising, 
then ? " I asked. 

" Yes, sah. Dem know since five o'clock. 
Kaffir boys from Klaas's brought in de news : 
and a white man escaped from Rozenboom's 
confirm it. We have pickets all round. You 
is safe now : you can ride on into Salisbury 
witout fear of de Matabele." 

I rode on, relieved. Mechanically, my 
feet worked to and fro on the pedals. It was 
a gentle down-gradient now towards the town ; 
I had no further need for special exertion. 

Suddenly, Hilda's voice came wafted to 
me as through a mist. " What are you doing, 
Hubert ? You'll be off in a minute ! " 

I started, and recovered my balance with 
difficulty. Then I was aware at once that 
one second before I had all but dropped 
asleep, dog tired, on the bicycle. Worn out 
with my long day and with the nervous 

Digitized by Ct< 

strain, I began to doze off, with my feet still 
moving round and round automatically, the 
moment the anxiety of the chase was re- 
lieved, and an easy down-grade gave me a 
little respite. 

I kept myself awake even then with diffi- 
culty. Riding on through the lurid gloom, 
we reached Salisbury at last, and found the 
town already crowded with refugees from the 
plateau. However, we succeeded in securing 
two rooms at a house in the long street, and 
were soon sitting down to a much-needed 

As we rested an hour or two later, in 
the ill-furnished back-room, discussing this 
sudden turn of affairs with our host and some 
neighbours — for, of course, all Salisbury was 
eager for news from the scene of the 
massacres — I happened to raise my head, 
and saw, to my great surprise .... a hag- 
gard white face peering in at us through the 

It peered round a corner, stealthily. It 
was an ascetic face, very sharp and clear-cut. 
It had a stately profile. The long and wiry 
grizzled moustache, the deep-set, hawk-like 
eyes, the acute, intense, intellectual features, 
all were very familiar. So was the outer 
setting of long, white hair, straight and 
silvery as it fell, and just curled in one wave- 
like inward sweep where it turned and rested 
on the stooping shoulders. But the expres- 
sion on the face was even stranger than the 
sudden apparition. It was an expression 
of keen and poignant disappointment — as of 
a man whom fate has baulked of some well- 
planned end, his due by right, which mere 
chance has evaded. 

"They say there's a white man at the 
bottom of all this trouble," our host had been 
remarking, one second earlier. " The niggers 
know too much: and where 4id they get 
their rifles ? People at Rozenboom's believe 
some black-livered traitor has been stirring 
up the Matabele for weeks and weeks. An 
enemy of Rhodes's, of course : jealous cf 
our advance : a French agent, perhaps : but 
more likely one of these confounded Trans- 
vaal Dutchmen. Depend upon it, it's 
Krugers doing." 

As the words fell from his lips, I saw the 
face. I gave a quick little start, then re- 
covered my composure. 

But Hilda noted it. She looked up at me 
hastily. She was sitting with her back to the 
window, and therefore, of course, could not 
see the face itself, which indeed was with- 
drawn with a hurried movement, yet with a 
certain strange dignity, almost before I could 


33 2 



feel sure of having seen it. Still, she caught 
my startled expression and the gleam of 
surprise and recognition in my eye, She 
laid one hand upon my arm. " You have 
seen him ?" she asked quietly, almost below 
her breath. 

" Seen whom ? " 


It was useless denying it to fur. " Yes, I 
have seen him," I answered, in a confidential 

"Just now— this moment— at the back of 
the house — looking in at the window upon 

" You are right— as always," 

She drew, a deep breath* "He has played 
his game," she said low to me, in an awed 
undertone. " I felt sure it was he + I 
expected him to play ; though what piece, I 
knew not ; and when I saw those poor dead 
souls, I was certain he had done it — indirectly 
done it, The Matabele are his pawns, He 
wanted to aim a blow at me ; and this was 
the way he chose to aim it«' J 

"Do you think he is capable of that? 1 ' I 
cried, For in spite of all, I had still a sort 

of lingering 
respect for Sebas- 
tian. " It seems 
so reckless — like 
the worst of anar- 
chists - when he 
strikes at one 
head, to involve 
so many irrelevant 
lives in one com- 
mon destruction," 
Hi Ida 1 s face was 
like a drowned 

"To Sebastian," 
she answered, 
shuddering, "the 
End is all : the 
Means are un- 
essential. Who 
wills the End, wills 
the Means : that 
is the sum and 
substance of his 
philosophy of life. 
From first to last, 
he has always acted up to it Did I not tell 
you once he was a snow -clad volcano?" 

"Still, I am loth to believe " I cried. 

She interrupted me calmly, " I knew it," 
she said. " I expected it, Beneath that 
cold exterior, the fires of his life burn fiercely 
still. I told yon we must wait for Sebastian's 
next move ; though I confess, even from him, 
I hardly dreamt of this one. But from the 
moment when I opened the door on poor 
Tant Mettle's body, lying there in its red 
horror, I felt it must be he. And when you 
started just now, I said to myself in a flash 
of intuition— 'Sebastian has come ! He has 
come to see how his devil's work has 
prospered.* He sees it has gone wrong, So 
now he will try to devise some other. 3 ' 

I thought of the malign expression on that 
cruel white face as it stared in at the window 
from the outer gloom, and I felt convinced 
she was right. She had read her man once 
more. For it was the desperate contorted 
face of one appalled to discover that a great 
crime attempted and successfully carried out 
has failed, by mere accident, of its central 

by Google 

Original from 

Animal Actualities. 

Note. — These articles con si si of a series of perfectly authentic anecdotes of animal lifc y illustrated 
by Mr, J m A. Shepherd \ an artist fang a favourite with readers of The St RAND MAGAZINE:* While 
the stories themselves are matters of fact^ it must be understood that the artist treats the subject 
with freedom and fancy \ more -with a znew to an amusing commentary than to a mere representation 
of the occurrence. 


HIS is an older story than most 
of our others, It dates back, 
indeed, to the year 1864, when 
the pet of a British regiment, 
stationed in Jamaica, was a 

He was a meditative and ex- 

b U rfari 00 

windows his dwelling was placed* He was 
tethered by a long, light chain, but even 
with this restraint he managed to get into a 
good deal of mischief. As, for instance, on 
one day, when he conceived himself insulted 
by a certain young officer, and instantly fell 


tremely thoughtful baboon, and his habits to pelting the mess-room windows with such 
and manners provided continual amusement terrific effect that his habitation was removed 
for the officers, before whose mess-room to a less commanding spot. Here his amuse- 


- : % 



DANTH.ED AKB rONDLK^rj g j n 3 | f fQ m 





ments still went on, however, Any living 
creature that ventured within his chain radius 
was apt to have a busy minute or two, and 
the unhappy fowls, who often strayed within 
reach, were grabbed instantly, and sometimes 

but he neither plucked it nor wrung its neck, 
but, instead, dandled and fondled it with 
such demonstrative affection that quite pos- 
sibly the unfortunate cock would have pre- 
ferred plucking. He squeezed it, he stroked 


strangled, though he more often amused it, rubbed it, nursed it, held it aloft and 

himself by plucking or half-plucking his danced it, released it for a moment, and 

unhappy prisoner before releasing it playfully hauled it back by the leg when it 

One fowl, however, he took a sudden and made for liberty. The bird did not in 

violent fancy for. He grabbed it, it is true, any way reciprocate his affection ; in fact, 



o ^% 




Original from 




r - 




A- A b 

l 1 ^ .^, 


altogether misunderstood it. But the when he had secured a creature he could really 
baboon persevered, and held firmly on to love, it should die ere he could induce it 

his pet. He felt confident 
of winning it over by per- 
sistent kindness, and since 
hU earlier demonstrations had 
proved unsuccessful, he re- 
newed them with more 
vigour. He stroked it the 
other way, rubbed it more 
persistently, danced it more 
quickly, and squeezed it a 
good deal harder. But even 
these attentions failed to 
rouse its affection, and at 
last, in the midst of an extra- 
friendly hug, the perverse cock 
died, misunderstanding the 
devoted baboon to the last. 

He was overwhelmed with 
grief. To think that at last, 

by Google 

fittingly to reciprocate his 
affection ! It was very sad. 
He set about the last sad 
rites with every manifestation 
of sorrow. In solemn grief 
he buried his departed play- 
mate at the foot of a tall 
tree, where the grass might 
grow and the birds sing over 
its grave, Then he sat him 
down before the grave and 
mourned ; neglected all his 
usual amusements, and 
mourned sorely day by day 
for a fortnight. But at the 
end of that time he could 
bear his grief no longer; so 
he dug up his departed pet 
and ate it ! 


Original from 


Bv Neil Wynn Williams. 

Author &f u The Eay&ntt That Came Home" " The Green Field" "Greek Peasant Stories" etc. 

married man with a family, 
had lately retired from busi- 
ness upon a substantial com- 
petency. Office life had given 
him no opportunity of de- 
veloping his muscles- He l